The Unexpected Grace of Capture
by Eidolon Tree
Summary: Ma-kun/Tachi, a story of uncertian moral fibre, a cluster of one shot wonders. Status: COMPLETE.
1. Default Chapter

**Flash Paper**

These words will be grandiose, these words will be huge. These words will hopefully tell a story to you, create a world, an emotion, a vibe, that removes you from yourself. It will be…the sort of stuff to make you pause… or not, really, one never knows. Either way, it's neon light prose, it's dynamics and meter and adjectives and nouns and adverbs. These words should glitter and transport, these words should have power. It should be writing, with style. 

But what else could you expect, it's a story about a rock star.

Aizawa Tachi was a super star. For a little while, at least. Blessed with good looks and talent, the vocalist of a popular jpop band, he had fans sending him letters of love. Only one mega popular song so far, but it was of course, just the beginning. It's always the beginning for some people, but ASK was going places. Contracts decorated with signatures of authoritative figures all but stated they'd be gods in the next decade. The Music Industry is all signatures and politics (and money), art comes later. Most bands never realized that these were promises written on flash paper - a single touch of a match would instantly turn a promise into ash.

Aizawa Tachi, was a driven man. He wanted, that defined him. He wanted to be the best singer he could be, he wanted to be the best singer anyone could be. He wanted monetary success and he wanted artistic acclaim and he wanted fame and he wanted respect. He wanted them all, served to him on a tray, with tea.

To all appearances, Aizawa Tachi was achieving all his goals. As far as he was concerned, those goals were worth any price. If he lost a little bit of soul to the cause, well….

Fine by him. Fair trade.

  
  
  


The office was full of clean right angles and black things. Crowning the whole affair were great ceiling to floor length windows that owned the whole office, severe and full of light.

They were sitting there being completely ignored. CEO Seguchi Touma was too busy on the phone, nodding and uttering perfect pleasantries with the polite care of a man who could purchase all the respect in the world but found it more amusing to possess it through the elegance of manipulation. Each nod of his head sent a light shine across his blonde hair, when the sun touched the pale skin of his cheek, it seemed only fitting that it be the first time sun had ever touched it at all.

Tachi shifted in his seat and tried to maintain perfect posture, the black fabric of his dress coat taut against the small of his back, his hands resting uneasily on each knee. Ken was slouching far down into his chair, and his shades hid his eyes. Ken was wearing a leather jacket made of different color patches, which matched the 80s USA theme he tended to nurture on a daily basis. Tachi, as usual, was dressed all in black with a splash of purple for good measure.

They were sitting there, in Seguchi Touma's presence, being utterly ignored.

What the hell?

"Un. Yes, of course, I wouldn't think otherwise." Touma looked up at Tachi right at that moment, and a small smile moved across his lips, as pleasant as an airline stewardess. "Excuse me a moment." And he covered the phone. In a gentle, polite voice, Touma said, "I'll be with you in a moment," and then he went back to his conversation, swiveling his chair to face the great windows, lowering his voice so they couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

The leather chair Tachi was sitting on was overly squishy and he sunk down too far so he had to look up a little at Touma's desk. The light shone right into his eyes from the window so he had to squint into Touma's general direction. He was being ignored, and he knew something bad was going to happen within the next ten minutes. He grit his teeth and maintained perfect posture as much as he could in the overly soft chair.

"A-ah," Touma said loudly, "but you know better than that. And I'm afraid I must go, I have some minor business to take care of, but I'm looking forward to seeing you again. Of course. Yes…" And Touma hung up with a polite good bye. Touma looked down at the phone as he hung it up, let his eyes drift up to meet Tachi's.

Tachi had to squint, but he still saw Seguchi Touma's face move into a subtle change. A little more brittle, a lot less sweet -- sharkish and assured.

"Nothing will happen to ASK."

And Tachi was relieved. Ken let out a half sigh and started to unslouch himself.

And Seguchi Touma continued. "Nothing will happen to ASK, ever again." Touma steeple-d his fingers lightly, smiled gently, and spoke politely, "No more records." The smile didn't waiver. "No more fans." And he dipped his chin. "No more money." And the smile moved into a sort of genuine happiness, too gentle to suit his words, the feminine softness of his voice a strange contrast to the death knoll that would seem more appropriate. Seguchi Touma closed his eyes, tilted his head to one side as if delivering good news, and Tachi realized this was the first time he'd ever seen Seguchi Touma's teeth. "No more press. Nothing. Ever, ever again." And Seguchi Touma opened his eyes, nodded gently and pursed his lips, the same soft gentle smile came back. Touma let the meaning of the words sink in. "ASK is gone."

The world ends so quickly.

The hallway, with its florescent lights and busybody interns and assistants walking with paperwork and cups of coffee …was normal and unaffected. The people in the building didn't care, or didn't know, about the band's demise. The floor had a dense, brown carpet, the walls were painted in wooden tones. NG's building was oddly earthy in color, calm. They walked, quietly. Ken was looking down. Tachi was looking straight forward, hands stuffed in his pockets and his chin at a light tilt upwards - it made his profile more appealing. He tugged his clothes into a perfect arrangement, and meandered at a comfortable pace when the world felt as though it were sinking with each footstep. No one was looking at him, but he was going to behave as if they were all staring. He was going to be a prince, he was going to be arrogance and elegance, until he got home.

Neither of them felt a thing, struck sort of dumb by the experience. They walked out of the NG building. 

Ken sniffed a bit, looked around, huge black shades made it impossible to judge his mood. "I'm taking my bike."

Tachi nodded but didn't quite hear, he was staring straight forwards, brown eyes unfocused directly in front of him and posture perfect. He kept one hand stuffed in his right pocket, half his purple-pink shirt un-tucked in a fashionable mess.

"Need a ride?"

He almost didn't hear, "No."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." And he nodded, turned around and looked about, at the outside of the building, at the courtyard that was so clean and well kept - a safe haven for moody artists, a garden specifically designed and installed to reduce stress and promote productivity.

"It's no hassle."

Ken didn't get it, so Tachi made it clear. "Go away."

"Yeah…" And Ken turned to amble off towards the subterranean garage.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked the air, the buildings, the lampposts, maybe he even asked Ken.

"Go home." Ken said. "Or go visit him. But you won't."

"I won't?"

Ken said something but was too far away now to still be heard.

"Hate hospitals." Tachi said out loud, to no one in particular this time. He started to walk.

The streets were full of people, but Tachi wished they were empty. He wanted the ability to bawl, scream, cuss, and throw things in private. But he wasn't home yet. Likely even then he wasn't allowed, he needed to keep the place clean so he wouldn't get kicked out. Everything today seemed grey to him, grayer than usual. The pavement on the sidewalk felt grayer, made the buildings feel grayer, made the people seem fake. He kept walking. It was bright out, and it was cold, and his dress coat wasn't really making things any better. He was only glad he brought his shades and hat with him today. He didn't need… fangirls today.

Later, they wouldn't be so bad. Right now anything that even looked like a fucking fangirl would piss him off more than he felt like he wanted to be. Fucking idiots. Fucking necessary idiots. He hated them and he needed them and he loved them and he wanted them all for himself. With their screaming and 'wai-ing' and clinging and bawling and……god, he was never going to have them ever again. What was he going to do without them? Hate them for being idiots, and then hate them because he didn't have them and someone else did?

He fished into his pockets, pulled out a pack of smokes. Some paper blew across his feet and he felt like he was in a bad art movie. When he lit up the cigarette made him sick. The past few months he'd been harped on to preserve his vocal chords, so he'd been smoking less and less… and now when he felt like he could use the therapy of a good smoke it was denied him again.

He was going to puke if he didn't stop.

He smoked three more until he felt lethargic.

All he could think over and over again, 'Now what? Now what? Now, what?'

It's the world. The world had ended, the world had been destroyed. The goal was gone. The whole point of being alive was gone. The object of his own, pure lust was gone. Gone, gone, gone… 

He supposed now would be a good time to go pay some of his dues to someone who just might still consider him a human being. And it would feel good to feel human, even for a couple minutes.

The whole place is so fucking clean, so fucking… white… the odd shades of pastel accents that some designer figured would make the place less threatening. Tachi wanted to phone this idiot and tell him that any place where people died wouldn't be made any cheerier if you stuck happy faces and teddy bears all over the place. 

He couldn't find the room. He couldn't find the nurses' station. He found a great deal of orderlies that all told him that both locations were very easy to find but gave him directions in some sort of hand gyration he didn't understand. And he didn't want to talk to the sick people. So he just wandered around the hospital, lost, until someone who looked healthy and recognized a lost look stopped to point out the way.

Standing in front of the hospital door made him sick. He could hear it already, 'apologies not accepted, I'm glad NG screwed ASK over.' He shifted his weight. The door was a cream peach color, and "106A-B" was written in a san serif font on a plate at eye level. The door was three-fourths open, and he could see part of the one of the beds. Antiseptic smell, clean smell, filled the air.

He felt sick. He felt sick sick sick. His stomach was clenched and acidic, his body hurt it was so rigid. He was almost weak with apprehension. He set his jaw, pushed the door the rest of the way open, and stepped in. The bed on the right was empty, which logically meant that the other bed held the person who he wanted to see. He heard channels being flipped, some rustling of stiff hospital sheets. He imagined the stiff white cotton against bare skin, felt sick again. He hesitated just a moment, and gave up and proceeded. He took the 4 steps to the curtain around the bed, he raised his arm, and pulled back the white and blue curtain carefully.

He was sitting on the bed, the back of it elevated so that he was in a half sitting position, casually watching tv.

"Ma-kun…" He said, gently, not entirely sure how to handle anything. "You look like hell."


	2. Awkward Moments

**the unexpected grace of capture, chapter two: awkward moments**  
  
  


There were few people in the world who didn't seem to mind his nature. He was naturally a volatile personality, changeable as all hell and extreme. That meant that most people were unwilling to spend more than a few days as his acquaintance. That also meant that the few people who stuck around meant something to him, made precious for their rarity. Every moment they were with him he expected them to leave, they never left. He'd lash out and cringe seconds later, and they'd only sigh and accept that as expected behavior. It was a rather mutual pain on both their parts.

His brain threw words at him to hiss at Ma-kun, "I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I did it for us all. It's all that fucking Yuki Eiri's fault… it will never happen again… ASK is dead… dear god, forgive me." But instead, he heard himself say, without any forethought at all, "I mean, you look like total shit. No one's going to swoon over that mug today." He lost a great deal of his visible arrogance and charm, just then, looked down and around, anywhere but at Ma-kun. He felt embarrassed.

"I'm not the lead singer of ASK." Ma-kun quipped back at him, letting the accidental cruelty go.

Tachi smiled for show, tried to look at Ma-kun for a moment, but found that as soon as he saw Ma-kun lying there in the hospital bed he felt his eyes tear up a bit. He looked back at the muted television set, laughed once and hoarsely, "Neither am I." His voice didn't sound amused enough, it sounded sort of airy and on the edge of being choked to death from blocked tears. He laughed nervously to cover it.

Ma-kun didn't say anything, and Tachi went to go sit by the bed, his eyes still traveling all over the place. There was a picture of a vase full of flowers bolted to the wall. The room became quiet then. It was the sort of ugly deathly quiet that made Tachi feel weaker and sicker by the moment, til his neck actually failed him for a second and his chin traced a little circle in the air.

Ma-kun reached out and touched his face, and he jumped just a little, but not enough to break contact.

"Hey." Ma-kun said, softly, but there was nothing else to say.

Ma-kun's face was diamond shaped and entirely too close to Tachi's. Ma-kun's eyes were an odd sort of frosty blue color, they looked almost unnatural.

A moment, a hesitation. Two men touching who shouldn't. Tachi couldn't breathe.

Just the corner of Ma-kun's mouth tugged upwards, and Ma-kun touched one finger to Tachi's lips, and very clearly in the silence stated, "Pout."

Tachi jerked his head back and stood up, offended. His eyebrows pulled together with displeasure and he frowned. "Fuck you."

"There." Ma-kun said, sounding a little amused, and very tired. "You sound better already."

He shifted his weight again, felt heavy all over. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say it out loud, apologize for getting him involved in this. He wanted penitence, he wanted forgiveness, he wanted torture. He wanted anything but this hospital bed and that ugly feeling of eyes just looking at him.

"So, you came here to get this over with, eh?" 

Tachi winced, but the voice lacked any real anger.

"Hate hospitals." He muttered, edged closer to the hospital bed, simply feeling awkward and at a loss. 

"Yeah, I know."

He couldn't look up past the blue hospital blanket and the white sheets. He couldn't look up, tear his eyes away from the remote control sitting on the bed, past Ma-kun's knuckles. He didn't want to look up. He didn't want to see Ma-kun's face. He felt almost weak he felt so awful, great weights on his entire body pulling him down and down and down, exactly where he belonged. 

They existed awkwardly in each other's presence for the meanwhile, neither attempted to make any sort of casual conversation. Tachi just stood there and hung his head like an upset child, a little boy who knows he's done something awful, was visibly agonized and perfectly willing to lie about it to protect himself from punishment.

It felt as if the passing of time had ceased. Tachi was now unable to look anywhere but at his own hands, and every time he tried to look up, his chin would dip back down again. It was quiet in the room, white noise taking up empty space: the air conditioner, nurses down the hall who complained about having powdered creamer instead of milk, and traffic driving by. The longer neither of them spoke the more self-conscious Tachi felt. Each glass grinding second they were quiet Tachi felt sicker, and the weight of the truth came down on him, and he clung to his exterior calm out of the strength of his pride alone.

"We lost NG." He said, feeling almost dizzy when he said it. Nauseated, weepy, but he wasn't going to break down, he refused to.

"Figured." Ma-kun answered.

And they resumed being quiet.

After minutes, eons, fingers touched Tachi's face, and he didn't jerk away. He let Ma-kun force him to look up. Ma-kun pet him on the head lightly and smiled without any malicious intent at all. It hurt Tachi to be forgiven so easily. He should have smacked that hand away right when it touched him, but it was so good. Soothing. It meant that there was at least one person left in the world who didn't hate him.

Ma-kun's face was bruised, cracked and ugly. His blonde hair was oily and sort of tangley. His eyes held nothing but kindness. 

Instantly, Tachi was filled with utter distaste. He jerked his chin to one side, spun around. "I gotta go." He felt like he was running away, and was a little ashamed.

"Yeah."

"Later."

So now, Tachi was home. It was a good flat. The floor was wood, in warm tones. His furniture was an excellent grade of leather. His stereo system all Sony product perks -- NG and Sony had been in bed together for years.

Tachi was drinking rum from a plastic bottle. It was too sweet, really. If he drank too much in one swig, he'd gag on it. But he was out of soda, so that meant that he had no appropriate mixers -- and right now, all he wanted was just a little bit of oblivion.

There was overwhelming quiet in his flat. Tachi lolled his head around in a circle, examined the ceiling, the floor, the décor. He liked it here. He liked the things he owned. He liked being rich. He liked it here.

"Only little drunk." He sighed. "Not…. Enough." 

And he closed his eyes and smiled just a little bit.

"Only a little fucked." And he laughed. "Only a lot."

He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, pursed his lips and grit his teeth. For a moment, everything inside him wanted out. For a moment, tearing apart the apartment wasn't at all beyond his grasp.

And then it became meaningless, everything had suddenly become meaningless. There was nothing left. The only thing that ever mattered to him no longer existed.

His mouth pulled into a classic frown face, his eyebrows knit lightly. He pursed his lips.

"Pout." Tachi said outloud, laughed a little bit. "I … don't pout…" and he closed his eyes and got quiet, wondering why he even bothered saying anything out loud to begin with. It was just too quiet inside his flat, it was just too alone. But he was alone for a reason, an obvious, simple reason: he was a monster.

Simple fact. He was a monster, and he had chosen to become this monster.

Twenty-one year old has been monster high school flunky alcoholic. He rolled his head back so it was resting on his sofa seat, laughed at the ceiling and felt his gorge rise. He sloshed his head back to an upright position, squinted at the bottle on the floor and pulled it closer for another drink. Tachi drank too much rum again and nearly gagged, his stomach knowing he was drunk enough when his brain urged him to go further. He cautiously capped it, spinning the white plastic cap back onto the bottle, set it aside, and lay down on his floor.

He breathed. And that was it.

It was a blur of days. He only went out for liquor and sex. Those two things, at least, still had some sort of effect on him. Star fuckers still wanted a piece of him even if he no longer actually had a contract with any big name company.

And they usually went away willingly. All they wanted from him was bragging rights. All he wanted form them was a little mindless pleasure. Fair trade.

  
  
  


He was sitting on the floor, back braced against his couch, staring at the tv, which was turned off. He was just looking at it. He was just staring. He wasn't thinking. The silence in the room had seeped into him. He wasn't alive. He was just sitting, he was just inhaling, and he was just blinking.

His hair hadn't been washed in many days. It was a tangled, oily, black mess. He hadn't gone out to get any more liquor since his last bottle ran out. He was just sitting. He was just sitting. He was just sitting. Brown eyes blinked in longer stretches than they should. His breath felt a little labored. If he thought too much, his world felt too tight and loose at the same time, utterly groundless and unsafe.

The knock at his door made his entire body jerk in a fear response.

He held still.

He hoped they would go away.

He was almost upset that he'd begun thinking again.

He only wanted to exist inside this stillness.

He heard keys sliding into the lock, he heard the door open. He didn't look for a moment, but eventually swung his head to see who entered, felt as if he were weighted.

Ma-kun walked up to him, crouched down next to him, touched his shoulder. "You look like hell." And Ma-kun pet his head. Tachi closed his eyes and told himself he had no right to feel relieved. 

"You eaten today?"

Tachi kept his eyes closed and didn't want to respond.

"Taaaaa chi." And he was pet again. "Tachi Tachi Tachi." Like an adult speaking to a child, a implied " tetch tetch tetch. "

Ma-kun raked Tachi's hair back and kissed his forehead.

Tachi grit his teeth and tried not to jerk away or cry.

"Let's get you fed."

The smell of food in his apartment almost made him sick. It nauseated him and made him feel weak. He forced down some food and forced himself to turn his brain on.

"What are you doing here?" He heard himself say too aggressively.

"Ken-chan said he hadn't seen you in a few days. Thought I'd come over to see if you're ok."

"I'm fine." And he turned his back to Ma-kun, faced the living room. Soda cans and liquor bottles and beer cans and plates of food were piled one on top of another. Dirty laundry seemed to be anywhere and everywhere. He vaguely remembered taking off t-shirts and randomly tossing them to one side, putting dishes and cans wherever there was room. Tachi hadn't bothered to clean up after himself for weeks.

"Yeah, fine." Ma-kun said sarcastically, and turned to do dishes.

"Don't do that." Tachi hissed at him.

"Why not?" Ma-kun started to run the tap. "This place is filthy."

Tachi cringed inwardly, but grit his teeth to avoid looking like he felt hurt. "Well, fuck you, too."

"I'll just do a few."

"You're not my wife."

"Well, you never asked."

"Ma-kun, stop it." He made his voice steel.

Ma-kun glibly ignored him, and proceeded to rinse off Tachi's collection of dirty dishes and place them in the dish washer. "How do you wind up with so many dirty dishes? You do own a dishwasher, you know."

"Ma-kun."

"Ta-chan."

"You're pissing me off."

"You're always pissed off, so that isn't exactly threatening."

Tachi made a hiss sound of annoyance and looked around the room as if for sympathy. Tachi crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side, just watching Ma-kun tidy up his kitchen. He couldn't help but be excessively annoyed. "This is my kitchen, you know."

"Take care of it then."

"Fu-"

"You're too damn predictable." Ma-kun smiled down at his hands, and completely ignored any outward hostility Tachi projected; he knew the difference between Tachi's ineffectual anger and his beat-the-crap-out-of-random-strangers anger.

"-ck you."

"You know what this place needs?" Ma-kun suddenly said, plunk the dish back into the sink without bothering to set it down (a loud clatter is heard).

"What?" Tachi asked sharply, wondered where he put his alcohol.

"Music." And Ma-kun started to the stereo.

"Don't turn that fucking thing on." Tachi blurted.

Ma-kun turned and blinked at him, a little surprised at the vehemence in his voice. "Eh?"

"Just, no music." And Tachi turned his head away, frowning and wanting something safe to settle his eyes on. "Ok?"

"Uh…" Ma-kun's slightly higher voice paused in confusion. "Ok."

Tachi's mouth pulled into a small, unconscious frown, and he looked around his apartment a moment. "It's not so bad in here."

"You hate it here."

"What?" Tachi looked up at Ma-kun by accident.

"You can't lie to me, Tachi, I've known you too long." And Ma-kun smiled large enough to show his teeth. The bruises on his face weren't so awful now, though you could still see them faintly under his skin. 

"Does that hurt?"

"Huh?"

Tachi pointed at his own face, traced a "u" shape in front of his mouth, "Smiling. Hurt. Does it?" And he flicked his gaze over to one side, a little bit, feeling awkward even looking at Ma-kun's face, wondering if Ma-kun felt self-conscious with the bruising.

Ma-kun blinked for a second before he totally caught on. "Oh." And he smiled a little less. "Nah. I'm cool." And he looked a little better already. "Just aches, really."

They both resumed their quiet.

Tachi shifted. Tachi felt hung over. Tachi felt awkward. Tachi felt shy. Tachi wanted to go to his bedroom, lay down, fall sleep, and ignore the whole thing. Tachi wanted to apologize.

Ma-kun grabbed a small towel, dried his hands. "Brought my paper."

"Ma-kun -"

"Come on."

"No."

"Why?"

"It's stupid."

"That's your answer for everything." And he grabbed his backpack from next to the door, unzipped it in the same movement, he pulled out a clipboard. "Come on."

"No."

"Humor me."

"Why?"

"… I just got out of the hospital?"

Tachi sighed and Ma-kun won.

They moved to the living room and sat on the same couch. Tachi inhaled and gave Ma-kun an expectant look, and Ma-kun handed Tachi the clipboard and a pen in a grandiose fashion, with one commandment, "Scribble."

Tachi took the pen and scribbled a mark on the page, and handed Ma-kun the clipboard again. Ma-kun started to sketch around the scribble, and Tachi rested his chin on his palm and just watched. Ma-kun sighed in annoyance.

"What?"

"This is so obviously a crocodile."

"'Bitch. Whine. Moan.'" His Japanese accent carefully tortured the American phrase.

Ma-kun grinned and kept on sketching. "So I won't make it one."

Tachi nodded and didn't know what to say. This is the sort of stuff they did when everything was… normal. When nothing hung in the air. When you didn't just walk in on the other person crying and drinking and dying.

So Tachi guessed they were going to pretend everything was OK.

Ma-kun kept on frowning and flicking his long hair back with a flip of his head. "Fucking hair is in the way."

"Braid it."

"Ken's not here."

"Braid it yourself."

"I don't braid my own hair. I'm a rock star, other people braid it for me." Ma-kun was making fun of Tachi (who was fond of saying "I'm a rock star."). "Do it for me."

"Eh?" Tachi arched an eyebrow. "I don't ever braid your hair."

"Do it this time." And Ma-kun tilted his head to one side, leaned close to him, his hair a fine blonde curtain in front of Tachi.

"What? No." Tachi tried to make his voice sound offended when in fact he was actually a little alarmed.

"Just the one side so it doesn't flop in my face."

"You're a guy."

"You're observant."

And Tachi hesitated, looked at the hair. He finally gave in, and reached forwards, and touched it. He pulled his hands back and shook his head even though Ma-kun couldn't see. "No good. Don't know how."

"Sure you do. You're just chicken." And Ma-kun clucked at him.

Tachi frowned. "That's not going to make me braid your hair."

Ma-kun rolled his eyes, grinned, reached forwards and caught Tachi's hands, "Here, like this." And guided Tachi's hands to a small lock of Ma-kun's hair, and began to show him how to weave three locks into one braid. Tachi jumped at the human contact, tried to jerk his hands away. Ma-kun carried on without a care, forcing him to learn how to braid. "Here…" Ma-kun said, hot hands still holding onto Tachi's uncomfortably, taking one lock and drawing it under the one before it, "And… here…" and taking another lock and weaving it under. Tachi's heart did a funny, frightening flip, and he wasn't exactly sure he liked or disliked the physical contact. Ma-kun's hands were entirely too warm and large. After a moment, Ma-kun let go of Tachi's hands and Tachi was forced to finish the braid himself. When they were done with their little braid fight, Ma-kun had one slightly loose braid on the left side of his head, the other side still loose and flopping around. And Ma-kun started to sketch again.

"You know…" Ma-kun said, thoughtfully, over his clipboard… "What you need."

"No. What do I need?" Tachi said angrily, still annoyed that he'd been 'forced' to braid Ma-kun's hair. 

"A party."

"Party."

"Yeah. Get the hell out of this place. Someplace social, ya know?" Ma-kun was focused on the clipboard, and each miniature pause in the conversation was filled with the scratching sounds of his rollerball pen.

"Huh."

"With people."

"Fucking hate people." He glanced around his living room, took in the trashed state one more time, wished that Ma-kun had called in advance.

"Right. Reverse Passion is having their debut party tonight, we should show up."

Tachi turned and looked at Ma-kun, arched an eyebrow. "'Reverse Passion'? That's their god damn name? That's… fucking… stupid."

"Tachi, our band name is 'ASK'."

"Still stupid." Tachi tossed his head by habit, forgetting that his hair was short now. Ma-kun grinned and looked down, recognizing the movement as the force of habit it was. Tachi raked his hand through his black hair, frowned lightly, and flicked his eyes off to one side, simply disliking making eye contact after he'd obviously done something so humanly silly. He didn't look back at Ma-kun for a moment, and when he did Ma-kun was just staring at him. "What?"

"Well?"

He grit his teeth a moment, gave up because he didn't feel like fighting, "Fine. I need to get laid anyways."

  
  
  


It was a party. That was it, really. Some liquor, some drugs, lots of music and hardly enough room for more than one ego let alone the twelve it as accommodating right now. Small party, the band Reverse Passion and the band ASK, and a few fangirls.

Tachi couldn't hear a god damn word they had to say, but he had a cold beer and the rapt attention of a cute little thing with short hair and nice eyes.

"You know." She said inside the quiet lull in between harsh Jrock songs, "If you had an aura, it would be leopard print."

She really was a cute little thing, Tachi decided. The school girl uniform helped. He smiled at her and leaned in close, and very clearly whispered, "meow," at her.

Her cheeks went delicate pink, and she stared up at him like a little mouse -- ready for his playtime and her little death.

Tachi smiled, leaned back into the couch and didn't break eye contact with her. At least the party wasn't a total loss.

Just at the edge of his peripheral vision, Tachi saw a flash of a palm. He flicked his eyes over and saw Ma-kun waving at him, jerking his head to one side to follow. Tachi nodded, held up one finger to the cute little thing with the pretty eyes, mouthed, "Right back." She smiled at him with all the gushing sweetness of someone who was utterly star struck. He changed the movement, used the finger to point straight down where she was sitting on the floor at his feet, "Stay, right there." And he got up to leave, follow Ma-kun wherever he was leading.

Ma-kun wound up leading Tachi into the bathroom. It as quieter in there, the music unable to break through walls yet, and Tachi leaned into the bathroom mirror to fix his hair. "Shit, we've been listening to that crappy album of theirs for two hours."

"It's their party." Ma-kun shrugged.

Tachi examined himself in the mirror. Eyeliner, gelled hair, mottled blue/grey and silver snake print shirt caught the light of the bathroom. The bathroom was decorated in industrial styles, statues that made no sense and paintings that were created by splatters and geometric stamps decorated the wall directly behind Tachi, and the effect was displeasing - it didn't match his shirt, or his dark looks. He leaned closer and examined the eyeliner, checking to see if it's blurred yet. It had, and he could have sworn he hadn't touched his eyes all night. He gave up, blurred it a little more, turned on the faucet and wet his hands, tousled his hair. "Rocker." He said and pointed to himself in the mirror. "We get away with anything. Including looking like crap." And he smiled a bit chagrined at Ma-kun in the mirror. "So what'd you bring me in here for?"

"Talk." Ma-kun's voice didn't include hints.

"Oh." Tachi said, frowned at his reflection one more time. The hair didn't look quite right yet, the tousle looking more like actual bed hair than rock-star hair. He re-tousled it. "So what'd you think of that chick?"

"Eh?"

"That girl. Chick. Whatever. I'm not good at P.C."

"She's okay. A bit young, don't you think?"

"She's legal." Tachi re-tousled his hair again, getting frustrated. "I wouldn't mind a ride with that one. Sweet."

Ma-kun was just looking at him in the mirror now. "You realize you sound like a total fucker, don't you?"

Tachi shrugs. "She's just a fucking fangirl. Think she doesn't want a piece of me?" And he frowned, he didn't like being put on the spot. "It's all mutual. I'm using her, she's using me."

"You make it sound disgusting."

Tachi shrugged again, "Whatever." And he was finally satisfied with his hair, with it spiked just so.

"So what is it about you, then?" Ma-kun asked, his voice stronger than usual, almost as if he were demanding some type of justification.

"'What is it about me?'" Tachi asked back at him, turned his head just enough to make eye contact inside the mirror. The ugly painting looked better framing Ma-kun's blonde looks than his dark looks. Tachi didn't mind letting his eyes linger, thinking that the reds looked good next to Ma-kun's platinum blonde hair.

"Yeah. You. About You. What the hell is it?"

"Don't know."

"You've been… "

"I've been --?" Tachi tried to cue him.

"A total fucker lately."

Tachi snorted, and gave up listening to a word Ma-kun said. 

"Tachi, listen to me."

"Let's go back to the party." Tachi spun around, and Ma-kun happened to grab his elbow at exactly that time, preventing him from exiting the bathroom.

"No, I think I wanna finish." Tachi half turned around and was forced to quickly look up. There were times when he forgot that Ma-kun was a great deal taller than he was. And Ma-kun's face was a great deal closer than he'd anticipated, after tipping his chin up a little too fast. Ma-kun's eyes reminded Tachi of the Eskimos, reminded him of their exotic husky dogs with white fur and ice blue eyes. He imagined great fields of snow, wind and biting snow flakes slowly numbing cheeks, he imagined dogs curled up in great drifts that looked like white sand, nose to tail, eyes slit open and examining. Ice, ice blue and clear.

"Fine then. Finish." He snapped, and jerked his arm away, a little embarrassed that he'd taken the time to examine Ma-kun's eye color.

"Tachi -" And Ma-kun broke it off, looking like he wasn't as sure now as he was seconds ago. "Shit. Tachi, I think getting famous so young ruined you or something."

"I'm ruined. Wonderful. Supportive. Thanks. Let's go back to the party."

"-- Tachi."

"What?" And once again, he turned around and nearly collided with Ma-kun, who was standing too close.

'I think…" Ma-kun started, and let it trail off. The two of them got silent again, neither of them took a step back this time. "I think…you should behave a little more…"

Tachi got annoyed, "Oh, fuck. Not this."

"Ta-"

"What, you got something against me getting laid now?"

"No."'

"So what's the big deal? You were never bothered by this before. I'm just flirting. Christ, I haven't even screwed her yet. Just told her she was cute."

"Well, we all know what that leads to, with you."

"So much god damn faith in me."

"Well, it's not like you've proven you're even worth faith." Ma-kun hissed at him.

And Tachi stopped moving. His insides stopped moving. He stopped digesting food, stopped pumping blood. He stopped existing. For at least two seconds, he felt an intense amount of pain. And then he laughed a little raggedly, shook his head, "I've been waiting for you to do this to me for years now." And he sighed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in a habitual nervous tick. "About god damn time." And Tachi took a step backwards, and Ma-kun reached out as Tachi took that one step and clenched Tachi's arms tightly, preventing him from pulling completely away. Tachi looked down at Ma-kun's hands, briefly, flicked his eyes back up to examine Ma-kun's face.

"Tachi…" And Ma-kun's eyebrows knit as he looked at Tachi, a frown moved across his lips lightly, and he looked uncomfortable and he looked raw, and he looked….

Oh, shit.

Before he could pull away, a hand touched his cheek and a thumb brushed against his skin.

"Tachi…"

He should do something. He should move. He should unfreeze. He should push Ma-kun away.

"Tachi, I…. I …." And Ma-kun leaned forwards so that his forehead was touching Tachi's forehead. "I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to say."

And he couldn't figure out how to move his body. He couldn't unfreeze his brain. He was suddenly excessively aware about how close they were. How close their lips suddenly where, suddenly aware that Ma-kun had been drifting closer all this time and he hadn't even noticed. He could feel Ma-kun's breath against his lips. They were both very still. Ma-kun's hand felt large and hot on his face. And all Tachi was aware of was the beating of his own heart - mentally he kept on asking himself, 'Is it beating faster? Faster? Faster? God, no, it can't be.' And he was aware of his own breathing patterns - mentally dissecting it, was he breathing harder? Was he breathing slower? Deeper? (A small perverse pleasure as his brain associated those words with sex.)

The nearness and warmth of a person made him extremely self-aware.

And Ma-kun started to push him backwards so that he was against the wall. Ma-kun's dog-blue eyes had gone all pupil now, and he was leaning into Tachi, and then Ma-kun closed his eyes, and tilted his chin so that their lower lips touched.

"Ma-kun."

"Ta-chan." He whispered back at him, leaned in closer, an almost kiss there until Tachi turned his head. 

[i]"Ma-kun."[/i] He stressed, finally made it sound like an objection.

Ma-kun stopped moving..

"Don't." And he closed his eyes. He waited for Ma-kun to disregard what he'd just said and kiss him anyways. "Don't… do that." And he was embarrassed at how shaky his voice was. "Please."

And he waited for Ma-kun to do it anyways. And their lower lips were still touching, and as Tachi exhaled Ma-kun inhaled, and the warmth of each other's exhales sent a chill across each other's faces. And after a while, Tachi became utterly without thought. It was all breath. It was all inhale and exhale, that tiny thrill across his cheeks as the warm air stirred the fine hairs that lived there.

They did not kiss.

"We…" Ma-kun said, sounding like he had absolutely no desire to speak, "better go back to the party."

Tachi nodded, "Yeah." And he hated that he wasn't sure if he was escaping or if he'd lost.

  
  
  


The ride home was awkward and quiet. They took Ma-kun's car, and Tachi did not have the girl with him. Tachi had refused to let Ma-kun put Reverse Passion's album in the stereo, stating that if he heard it one more time he'd force the car off the road.

So for now it was quiet. And Tachi wasn't at all interested in small talk. 

They reached his apartment after an eternity of silence.

They sat in the parked car for a moment, and they both flicked a look at each other, the two of them unsure of what to do next.

Ma-kun pushed his hair back and laughed once and said, "Sorry."

"Nah." Tachi answered as flip as possible. "Don't worry about it." And they both sat there for a little while longer. "Just don't like guys."

And it got deadly quiet again, the sound of the car engine running the only sound left in the car.

"So…" Ma-kun started, and then let it drift off again, his voice edged with hesitation... "Shindou -"

"Fuck you." Tachi snapped. "Go to hell and die." And he got out of the car, slammed the door, and stalked to his apartment.

Ma-kun sat in front of the apartment for a few seconds longer, before he smiled a bit sideways and said, "Yeah, I guess you don't actually have to die to go to hell, huh?" And drove away. 


	3. Trade

**The Unexpected Grace of Capture, Chapter Three: Trade**

He was dreaming about hate. It growled from his bones, grinding all other needs to dust. 

Hate. 

Something having to do with bodily functions, vibrating on the edge of mayhem and wanting to destroy an entire universe just to reach some edge of satisfaction, just to know that somehow it actually existed. 

Something was denying him what he wanted. Something was standing in his way. Something was right there, right in front of him, right in between what he really needed and himself. Denying him what he'd earned. 

And it filled him with _hate. Hate. _Fuck the universe hate. Hate that lead him to decadence, hate that became beastial. Hate that was molten and swift inside his guts. Hate that destroyed all it touched. 

He imagined his intestines turning into ash. 

It was not enough hate to destroy an entire world. 

But it was enough hate to destroy an entire soul. 

And he woke up and jolted upright in bed, stood up on round feet and stumbled his way to the bathroom as quickly as possible, and threw up, getting most of the bile into the toilet bowl. But the hate didn't go away, no matter how he much he emptied his stomach. He felt the acid of it on his tongue. 

As he sat there, cheek on the toilet seat, thinking not in the slightest, a tiny flash of memory occured to him, (a shriek:a thrill) and he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. 

Tachi's stomach hurt from all the vomiting, his throat was sore from it as well. His head hurt from alcohol. He felt weak, and tired. 

It's been weeks since he last saw the others, since he last bothered to answer the phone. 

God, he missed them. 

They made him feel a little bit human. 

He got up, slowly, felt every ache his body had to offer, and started to make his way to the telephone. He hoped that Ma-kun would forgive him, again. It seemed so traditional by now. Tachi snaps, Ma-kun forgives. They get drunk and talk about... something. Tachi wondered if they should skip the "drunk" part. 

The hardest part was the phonecall, which was surprisingly brief. The phone was answered after the third ring, Ma-kun's voice came over without a great deal of bass to it, "What?" 

God damn the man who invented Caller ID. 

"Uh." Instantly Tachi's brain turned into puddy. "Hi." 

"...what?" 

He sat there for a moment, completely unsure of how to tackle all of this. He hadn't been expecting Ma-kun to answer the phone. 

"Tachi?" 

"Ma-kun?" 

"No, his girlfriend." 

"... I... I was wondering...if...if maybe...if you wanted...." 

"If I wanted what?" 

Tachi sighed and slumped down into the couch, feeling for a moment that he couldn't quite do it. "Ma-kun..." 

"Yeah?" 

"I... 'm sorry." And he sighed. "OK?" 

"You always are." 

"Yeah." Tachi put his hand to his forehead a moment, smiled a bit at the ceiling. "I know." 

He heard Ma-kun sigh in acceptance. 

"Come over for a drink?" He offered lamely, mostly because he didn't know what the hell else to say. 

"Heh." pause, "sure." Ma-kun replied, and Tachi closed his eyes. 

They bid their 'see you later' and hung up. Tachi decided that he'd felt enough emotion for the day, and just sat on the couch for the next half hour, looking at the ceiling, thinking now and then that he actually didn't want another drink. He was completely drained. 

He was a little relieved. He had his best friend back. More or less. It had to be him, who apologized. It had to be his own damn fault. He'd overreacted. It wasn't that Ma-kun had brought up... that boy's name... it was that Tachi had once again taken it six steps too far. That was his nature. He'd accepted that, and every day he wondered if Ma-kun and Ken-chan had also actually accepted it. Every day he wondered if he'd finally taken it too far. Every day he wondered if it was the last. Optimism was never one of his finer points. 

Half an hour went by without thought and when the door buzzed Tachi jumped out of his skin for a moment. "Fuck." He dragged himself up, licked the gross roof of his mouth once, tasted the bile one more time, an entire night's worth of bacteria sitting white on his teeth. He turned and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. The buzzer sounded one more time, as he grabbed his toothbrush and examined himself in the mirror. 

He looked like shit. 

He was not going to answer the door with his teeth all furry, so he put some toothpaste on the toothbrush, started to frantically brush his teeth. He could not answer the door without brushing his teeth, he just couldn't. He couldn't be seen looking as ugly as he was now. His hair was oily, he needed to brush the tangles out before he answered the door. His face was oily, he needed to wash his face. Tachi grabbed at his brush and started to yank out knots in his hair, feeling bits of hair root tear out of his scalp. When his hair was laying down nearly flat against his scalp, no tangles and shining from oil, he tossed the brush down and ran the water hot to wash his face. The buzzer went off for the fifth time, and while Tachi was washing his face, there was a prolonged silence. Tachi stopped washing his face, rubbed himself dry vigorously with the towel, and turned to run to the door, all the while thinking, "shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit." And he was positive that Ma-kun would have left by now, and he wondered what it would take to get Ma-kun to come back over to his flat and talk, and he wondered what he would do to explain why he didn't answer the door. He was inventing lies to tell Ma-kun over the phone when he reached the doorknob. He fell asleep, he was nervous and didn't answer the door. 

But he opened the door and Ma-kun stood there, smile skewed. 

"God, how you primp." And he walked in. 

Tachi immediately straightened his spine and fell into a more familiar mode, "I don't primp." 

Ma-kun flung an amused and glitter-eyed smile at him over his shoulder. "Yeah you do." 

"Whatever." And he pushed his fingers through his hair, grimiced at how flaccid his locks felt to the touch -- a mess. Tachi felt he hadn't been clean in years. 

Ma-kun walked around the room a bit and didn't say much, but his whole demeanor was relaxed. "You look like hell." He said. 

Tachi frowned. "No, I don't." 

"You look hungover." 

Tachi couldn't argue with that. 

But Ma-kun turned and gave him a rather nice smile, the bruises on his face mostly a memory by now, a vague discoloration you could possibly mistake for a birth defect. Tachi didn't find that very comforting. Ma-kun held out a large sack, "Brought beer." 

"Oh." Tachi said simply, tried to ignore the sudden wave of hangover felt. "Cool." 

Ma-kun laughed at the tone of voice he recognized. "Food too." 

Not a huge improvement. "Ah." 

"Eating would do you good." 

"Right." 

"Feeling social today, are we?" 

"Heh." 

"Witty too." 

Tachi just didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. They both settled down in the livingroom and popped open a beer because they didn't know what else to do, and it occupied their hands for a few moments. 

It took about two hours for Tachi to relax enough to forget that they had been fighting. The two of them sat on the couch. The evening went on exactly as it should have, and it took very little time before they turned on the tv and started to watch it together, neither of them talking becase there really wasn't a need to. Comfortable. They ate snackfood straight from the bag and made odd running commentary on whatever happened to be on tv. Both knew enough to avoid music tv. 

"So." Ma-kun said once, in the middle of a commercial. 

Tachi turned towards him. "Uh.... so?" 

"So. How are you." 

"Huh." Reflexive smile. 

"Don't say you're good when you aren't." 

"I'm good." 

"Liar." 

Tachi had been wanting someone to tell him he was a liar for weeks now. "No I'm not." 

"Yes you are." 

Tachi made another laugh noise, felt a crack on his insides that made him want to trust. "What have you been doing these past few weeks?" When all else fails, change the subject. 

"Probably the same thing you've been doing." 

Tachi grinned again but it wasn't a very nice grin, "Heh, I doubt it." And he turned his head away to hide the smirk. 

"Tachi." 

"What?" 

"I haven't stopped liking girls." 

Tachi lost some of the smirk and tilted his head to get a better look at Ma-kun, unsure how to take that tone of voice, needing a face to figure it out. Ma-kun looked sort of serious. A little offended. "Oh." Almost instantly, Tachi craved a cigarette. "Okay." 

"Shit." Ma-kun leaned back against the couch, looked up at the ceiling. "I need a cigarette." 

"So do I." 

They both got up, went to the window and jerked it open, started to share a single cigarette. The two of them passed it back and forth, taking turns leaning out of the window and looking outside to the night sky, the building next door. 

"Tachi," an exhale, he pulled back out of the window, handing the cigarette over to Tachi now as he spoke. 

"Thanks." He took the cigarette now, leaned out the window and stuck it between his lips. Outside, the air was cold. Tachi found that he was thankfully thoughtless. He inhaled a lungful of rich smoke, exhaled again. He could see a couple fighting in the building next door, he decided to hand the cigarette off to Ma-kun, and leaned back into the hot air of his own apartment. "You finish it." 

"Don't think I want to." 

Tachi tossed it out the window without a thought. 

"What if it hits someone?" 

"They won't know I did it," and he shrugged. 

Ma-kun laughed and shook his head. "You were always more of a bastard then I was." 

"In all things there is balance." And Tachi braced his back against the wall, sat down on the floor. "I'm starting to feel sick." 

"I think you need to eat more." 

"God, no." And he put his hand to his head. "That'll just make me throw up." 

"I still think you need to eat more." 

Tachi shook his head, raked his fingers through his oily hair one more time. His scalp felt raw. He'd been scratching at it for the past few days. 

They both got quiet. 

"...Tachi..." Ma-kun sat down on the floor, looked at Tachi with a bit of a sigh. "You know that I'm sorry." 

Tachi nodded. "Yeah -- I think I'm going to hurl." 

"Just relax." Ma-kun tilted his head back and his head made a little 'thunk' on the wall. "You're probably just sick from the food." 

"No shit." Tachi licked his cracked lips, closed his eyes. "Starting to go away." 

"Good," Ma-kun said lightly, not sounding as if he cared wether or not it actually was good or not. 

They both got quiet again, but it was a less then settled quiet then before -- it was more along the lines of the denied quiet, the quiet that settles on the shoulders of those who are too afraid to speak. Tachi found that he didn't want to look at Ma-kun, that he kept looking at his livingroom, that it was prettier then it really should be for someone who made as much money as he has been these days. His livingroom still looked like someone rich and newly discovered, someone valued in today's market: leftovers from a previous success story. "I should sell this furniture." 

"Bring you good money." Ma-kun nodded. "Good leather." 

Tachi looked at his furniture, his stereo equipment, his pretty carpet and glossy coffeetable. "I want another drink." 

"Yeah, me too." 

And on it went. Some odd conversation, a bit of laxidasical talking, all emoting in moderation. Quite safe, in the short term, til they were drunk enough to not care what came out of their mouths or went into them. 

"Tachi?" He lolled his head around to look at his friend. 

"Eh?" Tachi didn't stop looking at the ceiling this time. 

"Sorry." He meant it. 

"Stop apologizing." Tachi frowned, "getting annoying." 

"But, I am." 

"Yeah, you said so. Once, twice, three times. Sold, to the highest bidder." He drank from his drink, enunciated an 'ah' sound to show how strong it was. 

"Heh," Ma-kun crawled a little closer to Tachi, took the bottle away and drank some, did not make an 'ah' sound. 

Tachi dropped his eyes down to meet Ma-kun's for the first time all evening. Ma-kun's eyes reminded Tachi of cough drops. "Huh?" Ma-kun was too close. 

"What have you been doing these past two weeks?" 

"Fucking all living females in the premises." Tachi paused in thought. "Most of them." He shook his head now. "Some of them." A little dead quiet. "One or two." Tachi sniffed and wiped his lips with the long sleeve of his grey shirt. They had stopped having fun. 

"Tachi." 

"What?" He didn't turn his head to look. 

"This is such a stupid question to ask..." 

"What?" 

"Back then..." Ma-kun paused, to get the wording right, "Back when I tried to kiss you -" 

"Shit." 

"- there was a moment when you seemed like you wanted me to kiss you." 

Silence. 

"Or am I just crazy?" 

Tachi just sat there looking forward. 

"I mean..." Ma-kun pursed his lips a moment and squinted at Tachi, thought seriously about touching Tachi's leg, but didn't think he could get away with it yet, "that's just the way you were acting. Kind of. Like you weren't... cooperating, but you weren't stopping me either. That's just how you were acting. That's all. You weren't grabbing at me or anything, but you weren't pushing me away, either." Pause. "Tachi?" 

Tachi closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't paying attention. There was a distinct possibility that if he ignored it, Ma-kun would feel too self-concious and stop this line of questioning. 

Ma-kun sighed and leaned back again, this time they were so close their legs were touching. And they continued to sit there, for several more minutes. Outside it continued to be night, and inside there continued to be silence. Ma-kun looked down. 

"I'm so drunk." Tachi said, starting to lay down the groundwork for tomorrow's lies. 

"No, you aren't." Ma-kun answered back. "You haven't had near enough to drink to be drunk. Not with your alcohol tolerance." And then as an after thought, "I'm not either, really. Just a little." 

They both became awkward now. 

"Tachi." 

"What?" He demanded back at Ma-kun. "What this time?" 

"Are you really OK." A tone of voice that finally suggested that he would tolerate no more bullshit. 

And Tachi started to laugh softly. "No, no I'm not. Feel better now?" 

"No, not really. I was hoping I'd be wrong for once." 

Tachi laughed dryly and looked down at the tile. 

And they both sat, because what else is there to do? And the silence became more bleak, the furniture seeming to be more like tall fences then anything else. Ma-kun wondered if this is how the flat felt, when Tachi was here alone. A little cell, just for its living contents: a social outcast with nothing left to live for. Tachi owned this furniture to look good for magazines. He loved the image. He loved the rock and roll of it all. Italian leather was meaningless to him if it wasn't plastered on an 8x10 glossy. His good looks were meaningless without a byline. Ma-kun wondered if it was ever music for Tachi. And then, as if thinking the exact same thoughts, Tachi started to speak, his voice sort of scratched and tight, squeezing through emotion tensed muscles. 

"I just can't believe I lost it all." Tachi whispered, unable to look up, unable to aknowledge that he'd just said it outloud. "It was so... right there. So close. God, I could smell it. I could taste it." He closed his eyes, felt tears come frighteningly close. "God." And he shook his head. "God....I.... heh..." And he felt the first of the hot tears squeeze out and slide down his cheeks. "I fucked up so bad. So, so, so, fucking, bad." 

No shit. "Yeah, you did." Ma-kun nodded. 

Tachi blinked and looked up at Ma-kun. "I lost it all." Tachi said, as if he hadn't heard. "All of it." 

And then they got contemplative again. 

But instead of feeling for Tachi, Ma-kun felt himself get annoyed. "Do you think ASK was only your dream, Tachi? You were the only one at rehersals? You, wrote all the music. Played the instruments. Fucking fought over all the contracts before each and every single gig since we started? You, just you, Tachi? Why not just name the band after yourself? Why be a band at all? Go solo. Fuck Ken and I. Who are we? Just a guitarist. Just a fucking musical genius. It's all.about.you." 

Tachi dropped his eyes and looked down. If guilt were Ma-kun's goal, Tachi felt it in tides. He took in some breath, said what he knew he was supposed to say. "I fucked up." And his voice lacked any real depth. "I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up." And with each statement, his voice lost even more depth. And he shrugged, feeling dizzy and swinging back and forth from nihilism to anguish. "What do I have to say?" 

"'Sorry.' Say you're god damn sorry, Tachi." 

Tachi looked up at Ma-kun, whose eyes had turned into chipped ice. Tachi wiped some tears away from his face with his fist, looked down and sighed hard. He looked back up at Ma-kun. "I'm --" _god damn sorry,_ "....sorry." And he looked down again. His feet were barefoot, and for a moment he didn't look away from the slightly irregular shape of his little toenail, but it kept on blurring. "I am, you know." And he sniffed looking down. "I'm sorry I took," and he choked up a bit, "I'm sorry I took you and Ken-chan down with me. I'm so fucking sorry." And he laughed and covered his face. "OK?" And he felt himself start to double over, too much of the emotion coming out all at once, "I'm fucking sorry!!" And his fist hit the floor once, hard, at the end of the line, before he convulsed into himself. He roared outloud, and started to laugh, and put his arms around himself a moment to hold himself together. And he shut his eyes and felt grief. 

Ma-kun just sat there looking at Tachi, awkward. He hadn't meant to say any of this. He'd gotten angrier then he thought he would get. He'd made a pass at Tachi when he thought he'd be good. He got drunk when he said he would have no beer. And now, Tachi was tearing himself apart in front of him. Ma-kun sat there clueless as to what to do next. 

"Ma-kun?" Tachi's voice was softer, slightly more in control. 

"Hn?" He answered gently back. 

"I fucking hate him." Tachi whispered softly in return. 

"'Him'?" He asked back, dreading the reply. 

_"Him."_ Tachi hissed sharply back. "I fucking hate _him_." And Tachi made hard fists into his own sweater. "I....hate, him." And he was shaking now, his voice was thin and far away. "I'd do it all over again. Twice. I'd do it. If I thought for one, god-damn moment, that I could take anything away from him." And he was crying still, but the tears came down his face unnoticed as he stared forwards. His hands twisted the fabric of each sweater arm. "I'd do it over and over and over again." 

"Tachi." 

"Just to hurt him." 

"Tachi, stop." 

"Just to make him bleed like how I am now." And he shook his head. "I would." But the last part sounded like grief again. "I would." And all the tension left him suddenly, and he slumped back against the wall. They both got quiet. Ma-kun just looked at Tachi, speechless. 

"God, Tachi..." 

"Ma-kun." Tachi whispered back at him. "I'm a monster," as if it were some type of revelation to him. "A monster." And he laughed once, shortly. "I'm, sorry." And a smile spasmed across his face. "Really. About you and Ken." And he looked up at Ma-kun now, really focusing on his face. Ma-kun looked different now. He looked almost anguished, entrenched in pity. Tachi hated pity, he dropped his eyes again. When Ma-kun put his arm around him, he wanted to jerk away. But it felt good, and it meant that Ma-kun, at least, wasn't going to go away in the next ten minutes. 

Ma-kun rested his forehead on the curve of Tachi's neck, and sighed against Tachi's ear. "You're so fucked up." 

That took Tachi by surprise. And without meaning to he burst into laughter, and covered his face again. "Yeah," He laughed looked at Ma-kun one more time. "I am." 

Ma-kun touched his cheek too gently touched his forehead to Tachi's. "Wanna know something really, really fucked up?" 

"What?" And Tachi couldn't help but smile. 

"After you told us," 

"Yeah?" 

"After you told us what you and those guys did to Shindou." And Ma-kun laughed softly, closed his eyes. "I was, of course, horrified. But you know what my very first thought was when you told us?" 

"What?" And Tachi kept his eyes on Ma-kun, who didn't answer for a long time. "What? Tell me." 

"My first thought... wasn't about Shindou. I should have thought about his health, his safety. I should have thought about my own god damn safety, right? You," And Ma-kun laughed once to make it pointed, "-you, had gone fucking insane." 

"Still am." 

"Shut up. You had gone insane. And you had raped Shindou, taken pictures, blackmailed a famous writer, and were standing in front of us about to do .... who knows what? .. and my first thought..." 

"... come on, tell me." Tachi's voice almost made it sound like a challange, who has the most fucked up confession to make? 

Ma-kun leaned in close and lost his humor for a moment, took on an expression of wry humor again. "My first thought? 'Oh, thank god. He likes men.'" 

Utterly ridiculous. Out of place. Horrifying. 

They both burst into laughter, just slightly hysterical. Ma-kun was laughing himself back to light again, Tachi was crying himself down to dark. And when they stopped laughing, Ma-kun felt extremely relieved. Tachi felt extremely dead. Too much. The world is too much. It takes too much, it changes too much. He defines his life by exactly one thing and now he doesn't have it anymore. A total lack of focus had invaded his life. Utterly groundless, always tumbling downwards, always turning circles. Why bother to move forward when there is no end to hell. 

"That's awful." Tachi said softly. And dipped his chin down. Ma-kun was wearing a nice shirt. Tan. He liked it when Ma-kun wore tan. 

And he closed his eyes and cried. Hard crying, deep crying, empty crying -- the sort of crying that an entire month's worth of binge drinking hadn't managed to tap into. It was such a solid ache. Pieces of his insides just missing, leaving a shell that just sat there and ached. God, the emptiness of it all. A whole world had been lost. And he couldn't even blame fate. He couldn't blame anyone but himself. He'd done it to himself. He'd taken the knife and cut his own throat out. This was a world lost because he was an insane fucker that no one liked or cared for or needed or even wanted on a _whim_ and here he was crying on his best friend's shoulder and he couldn't stop. Ever. This was a forever kind of pain. This was a forever kind of pain. It was hard to listen to what Ma-kun was saying. It was hard to focus on the words of comfort. He didn't hear any of the meaning. All he felt was shame, that he was actually crying. All he felt was ache. Too fucking stupid, all of it. 

Ma-kun was holding him as he cried. Ma-kun wasn't actually talking very much, because there isn't a whole hell of a lot to say to someone when they're crying like this. It was a progression of movement, after that. Arms around shoulders, hands stroking hair awkwardly. A gentle rocking because it seemed appropriate. Kiss the top of his head, because it seemed appropriate, if uncomfortable. Drift down to his forehead, because skin is a temptation. Move down to the eyelids, because one step too far is the best way to live life. Taste of salt on the tongue, and a gentle circle down the cheek to collect more flavor. 

Lips. 

Tachi felt something inside him rise upwards to fill the ache for a moment. Not the sort of passionate, tearing, groping kiss he imagined Ma-kun would give him. Not even the general feeling of pity. Soft, warm flesh, tear flavor that reminded him of tequilla shots. The movement of their tongues slowly dimmed the salt taste. Tachi draped his arms around Ma-kun's shoulders and didn't think. 

The two of them pulled away from each other with an audible 'kiss' noise. When they pulled apart he had stopped crying as much. A moment when brown eyes met blue, he was fascinated for a moment by the shape of Ma-kun's eyes, and then he dropped his gaze, carefully pulled away. He already felt uncomfortably cool away from Ma-kun. Crying had been a bad idea. 

"Ok, my turn to be sorry." Ma-kun said, actually feeling a little guilty for doing it. 

"I'm losing track of whose turn it is." Tachi quipped hoarsely back, didnt look at him, kept his eyes firmly glued on the light from the other room. 

"Pretty sure this time it was mine." 

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Hell of a party." 

"We shouldn't do this again some time." 

Tachi sighed. "Everything's getting more and more fucked up the longer we're here." 

"Don't know." Ma-kun said, just as airily distant as Tachi. "That seemed pretty OK to me." 

"I really did think you liked girls." Tachi said, knew from the start of the sentance that this whole conversation was going to be one huge mistake, as if it hadn't been from the start of the evening. 

"I do like girls." Ma-kun said for the hundredth time that hour. "I just like you better." 

Tachi laughed, covered his face. "I can see why you're more popular with them then I am." 

"I just don't treat them like shit the morning after. You'd be surprised." 

"Not really." Tachi wiped his face with his sleeve again, his sleeve getting wetter and soppier with each wipe and his cheeks getting rawer. He started to wonder how much like shit he looked, then he thought better of it. 

"Tachi..." 

"What." 

"... I'd like to kiss you again." 

Tachi made no movement, let out a heavy sigh. "Why?" 

"I liked it." 

"So?" 

"You did too." 

"No, I didn't." 

"Well, you let me." 

"Fuck off. You surprised me." 

"'Surprised' you? How? I had my arms around you, I was holding you. Before that our legs were touching and I kept touching your leg to get your attention. I was pretty fucking obvious." Nevermind he hadn't intended to be obvious. 

Tachi choose to ignore him entirely. It was a simplistic decision. Avoidence at its very best -- a skill which Tachi more or less had mastered. 

"So, why not?" 

"Why not what?" Tachi asked, pushed the palm of his hand down on the floor to try and get back up on his feet. As he was pushing himself up, Ma-kun reached out and unbalanced him so that he fell over with an 'oof'. 

"Why don't we get together?" 

"Eh?" 

"You and I." 

Tachi refused to acknowledge the heat on his cheeks. He didn't blush. He wasn't the sort that did shit like that. 

"Because I'm not gay." 

"Me neither." 

"What?" 

"I like girls as much as you do. I just happen to like guys, too." 

"I'm not like you." 

"Bullshit." 

"Ma-kun, are you trying to logic your way into my ass?" 

Unable to help himself, Ma-kun smiled a lopsided smile. "Well, flirting didn't seem to work." 

Tachi blinked. He didn't know how to react. "Huh." 

Ma-kun shrugged. "What kind of man would I be if I didn't try?" 

"My friend?" He had a point, there. One point in a game where he was twenty behind. At least it was a point. 

"Ow." Ma-kun paused. "I just don't see why not. How many women have you had? How many have I had? Out of all that meaningless sex, why can't we have meaningless sex with each other?" 

"We're men." 

"So?" 

"So -?" Tachi asked back, not sure what other argument to give back, and then gave up. He just felt weary and ugly all over. "I can't associate sex with you." He says dryly before he can stop himself. "I like you." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Shut the fuck up. Let's have a beer." Tachi dragged himself forwards. This whole thing felt unfair from start to finish. He couldn't help a tone of bitterness and he couldn't help feeling like he just wanted to be alone. Friend's don't hit on friends. End of story. And they got quiet, again, because they'd already fucked up enough for the evening. Because they didn't know what else they could possibly do that could make any kind of amends, add any type of positive note in the whole morass. Tachi felt a sudden, intense disconnection with the whole situation. 

He'd fucked up, again. 

At least there was still some beer left. He heaved himself up, walked towards the kitchen. Ma-kun followed. Well. Had beer. Past tense. Tachi picked up a bottle of hard liqour, made a mental note not to get drunk. He uncorked it with his teeth, accidently broke the cork into several small pieces, spat it out into the kitchen sink, and trudged to the living room, stepping around Ma-kun with his eyes downcast. He flopped down on the couch, looked at the so far ignored tv. The movie they had been watching previously had ended and a new one had started. Tachi sighed. "Maybe there's something else on." 

"Tachi." 

"What?" And now he was annoyed 

"Look at me." 

Tachi didn't want to. 

"Please?" 

Tachi swallowed once, and turned his head to look at Ma-kun, chin first, eyes second. Ma-kun was looking at him almost cautiously. "Tachi." 

"Yeah?" Cautious in return. 

"Tachi...I'd really like to kiss you. One more time." Silence. A complete lack of reaction. "Please? I mean, just once. No tongue or anything. It's just that I've wanted you for so long, and I know after tonight you won't let me ever again." 

Tachi was quiet. 

".... please?" 

Tachi didn't quite know what to think. 

"This will be the last of it. Forever and ever. I promise." 

He felt Ma-kun put his arm down around him, rest his chin on Tachi's shoulder. 

"Tachi?" 

Tachi closed his eyes, and was simply too tired to resist. "Only this once?" He asked, as Ma-kun turned him around by his shoulders. 

"Yeah." Ma-kun said, leaned in for the kiss, neither of them particularly cared about the slight delusional quality of it. "I promise." And he carefully fit their lips together, and attempted to leave it at that. It was difficult. Trying to keep perfectly still during any kiss is a great deal more difficult then it sounds. But Tachi was managing, sort of. When Ma-kun drew just a little away, Tachi inhaled a small gasp from in between his lips, unaware he'd been holding his breath all that time. As his lips parted, Ma-kun dipped his tongue inbetween lightly and stole a taste. It sent a wave of tingles across his cheeks, and he jerked away with the sound of interupted air. He opened his eyes and looked at Ma-kun, who shrugged and gave him a bit of a smile. Eye contact. 

"I look like hell, don't I?" Tachi. 

"No, but I think there are a few abused children in Africa who want to send you some money." 

Tachi laughed, and dropped his eyes. "Swollen eyes." 

"I like your eyes," and Ma-kun brushed away an errant tear, "ol' droopy eyes." 

"Fuck you." 

"No, I like them. Really." And Ma-kun leaned in and touched his forehead to Tachi's. "Beautiful." And he reached up and carefully touched the very tips of Tachi's eyelashes, drew a little line from one corner to the other, invading Tachi's personal space as much as possible, trying to enforce a more romantic and trusting mood. 

This only caused Tachi to avert his eyes further. He leaned back, and turned away -- happened to look at the tv, and the first thing he saw was a woman on a horse with a fly swatter. He laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation, shook his head, and reached for the bottle of liqour. There was nothing he knew better than these moves. He didn't know how effective they were until now. He took one great gulp of liqour, and looked at Ma-kun again. Maybe getting drunk wouldn't be an entirely bad idea. 

Ma-kun wasn't letting go of him. Ma-kun started to reach all over him, arrange his body so that Tachi was facing him. Ma-kun, taking swift control over a situation he saw as controllable. And then he put his hand on Tachi's knee, slid it up onto his thigh, waited for him to do something about it. 

Tachi just sat there, looking down at Ma-kun's hand. 

"You going to do something about it?" 

Tachi just looked at his hand, watched as Ma-kun squeezed his leg through his pants. He shook his head 'no'. 

"Just going to mess around." 

"... why?" He asked in return, feeling far too apathetic to do anything about anything at all. 

"Doesn't it feel good?" And Tachi nodded 'yes', and then Ma-kun leaned forward and nuzzled his throat, placed a kiss on the 'u' of his neck. "I promise I'll stop if you tell me to." 

"It hasn't worked so far." And he put his arms around Ma-kun's shoulders, closed his eyes. 

"Well, you didn't mean it." And Ma-kun kissed some more. 

"How will you know when I do then?" 

"Because you're a violent bastard, and you'll try to kill me if I do something you don't want to." 

"Damn." He rested his chin on Ma-kun's shoulder. "You know me too well." 

For a moment, all they did was sit there and hold each other. Mostly because it was comfortable, and they felt lethargic from all the emotions of earlier that evening. It started with a kiss at his neck, moved further towards his face, skipped his lips and kissed his eyes. First one, then the other, and then Ma-kun pushed him down onto his back, grabbed one of Tachi's legs and moved it so it was more comfortable. Kissing, that's all it was at first. No erotic grinding of the hips or twisting of tongues, no moaning or gasping. Just kissing. And it was good. After the kissing became all the world was, they started moving their hips, a little hungrier now, more forgetful of the way things were. 

Tachi hadn't actually realized how much they were getting into it until Ma-kun stopped kissing him, and started to focus on moving his hips. 

And Tachi felt his cheeks heat up, embarressed at how good it felt to grind against Ma-kun, not embarressed enough to stop. He dug his fingers in almost by accident, crooked his knee to get better leverage. He closed his eyes, tried to pretend it was someone else. It didn't work, nothing could get it out of his head. 

It was almost part of what made it so erotic. 

When Ma-kun went down on him, he didn't protest at all, when he knew he should. This was going to screw everything up. Tachi made fists in Ma-kun's hair. This was going to make things forever awkward. He started to pump his hips, starting to feel less and less logical about the whole thing. He opened his eyes and looked down, saw the top of Ma-kun's blonde hair, Ma-kun opened his eyes and flung him a smoldering look, his hands busy at his fly. Tachi quickly shut his eyes again. 

Just a mouth.  
Just this one time.  
Just this great, slippery, suctioning heat.  


He bit his lower lip, heard himself make a sound. Tachi tightened his fists in Ma-kun's hair when he tried to pull off, came inside his mouth. 

It was probably rude. But he wasn't really thinking about ettiquite just then. He felt a great wash of exhaustion, and relief. It was hard to open his eyes again after that. Ma-kun was kneeling above him, finishing himself off. Tachi closed his eyes again. It was something he didn't want to see. So Tachi heard it, but didn't see it when Ma-kun finished. Ma-kun pushed him over on the couch, flopped down, panting for breath. 

"Aaah." Ma-kun said, and laughed. It made Tachi feel a little ill. "Thanks." And Ma-kun put an arm around him, kissed him roughly on the cheek. "I needed that." 

Jesus, why did that make him feel dirty? "Ma-kun." He felt drowsy and ill at the same time. 

"Hm?" 

"I really think I'm straight." He didn't open his eyes, so the silence that fell just then was empty and without meaning. 

"...okay." There was a note of sarcasm in Ma-kun's voice. "I think I'd believe you a lot more if you hadn't let me kiss you and then blow you." 

"No...I really do think so." 

More silence. 

"I'm tired." 

"Me, too." 

"I guess I should go home. You probably won't let me stay the night, huh?" 

Tachi shook his head, "No." 

They lay there a few minutes, and then Ma-kun dragged himself up and zipped his fly. "Alright, then." And he climbed over Tachi awkwardly and started towards the door, unescorted. He fumbled with his shoes a bit, leaned himself up against the door frame. "Uh, Tachi." 

"What?" 

"I... meant to tell you something." 

"What now?" 

Ma-kun picked at his shoe laces, pulled one shoe on and started on the other. He didn't know of any other way to word this. "We have a meeting tomorrow." 

By 'we', he meant ASK. 

"Oh." Tachi was still lying on the couch, eyes closed. 

"....with Seguchi." 

And Tachi opened his eyes, sat up and turned to look at Ma-kun. "Touma." He said back. 

"Yeah." 

Tachi looked frozen, blatantly fearful. "No." 

"We have to." 

And Tachi shook his head at him. "No, I won't meet with him." 

"He says he has a deal for us." 

"I don't care!" 

"Tachi, he says he'll drop the lawsuit. We have to meet up with him." 

Tachi didn't blink, felt his heart race, shook his head again. "No." 

Ma-kun dropped his chin, sighed heavily. "We have no choice."   
  
  
  
  


Where is business done these days? Over dry martinis in swank resturants, with red walls and over stuffed chairs? With French menus, no prices written next to the entrees and businessmen in clean pressed suits? 

Today, at least, business conducted itself in a dance club, where the menu was unwritten but it was generally accepted that they only carried items in liquid form. 

Hair, the whole room was full of interesting haircuts. Black hair in mini-mowhawks, blue hair trailing down to lower backs, spiked and swept down over the eyebrows, exotic exotic hair like the plume of a peacock's tail -- drawing attention from whatever gender happened to be looking. And pink hair, short, chin length, changing hue in the altering dancefloor lights: magenta, hot, fushia, near purple. 

Noise, music, rhythym, the sound of people shouting over the din. In movies, extras are picked up and told to repeat, "watermelon, watermelon, rudabega, rudabega," over and over again, to give it that undulating, neverending feel -- this is the true sound of people gathering. It is an ever building roar, dozens of people shouting out orders, phone numbers, real names and fake names, cuss words and flirtations, it gets louder as the night wears on, as the liqour wears on. Along the edges of the crowd of dancing, colorful, talking people are the tables of the club, usually taken by regulars who get there early to secure them. It wasn't unusual for business to be conducted at one of these round tables, not even big business, or legal business. 

One table drew attention to itself for two reasons: the people at the table were famous, and they were being very... business like, which is less common in business than one would imagine. Three men sat at one side of the table, two men sat oppisite. It appeared to be the dainty negotiations of the professional, where one side would be much more powerful than the other, but no one knew which. On both sides of the table were blonde men. On both sides of the table were famous men. While it was unusual to see one of them out in public, no one was brave enough (or drunk enough) to attempt to race over and ask for an autograph. The paid bodygaurds who sat nearby weren't going to see much action tonight. 

The beat raged on, in the night, amongst the voices of the clubbers, amongst the sounds of shoe soles striking against the laminate floors; and pink hair flipped round as a chin bobbed to it, lost inside the churchlike sense of cleansing music brought to the soul of any real dancer. 

Back at the table, words were exhanged with a polite smile. Paperwork was exchanged with a polite smile. One blonde man took the paperwork, and began to read. 

A new song, a slightly more frantic rythym, the DJ turned up the volume to make up for the noise the people were making. The people began to talk louder to make up for the louder volume of the music. The noise built up higher and higher, slowly reaching upwards until it was just a mesh of bewlidering noise. 

And the people danced, and business went on. 

After around, three minutes (halfway through the remix of the current Top Ten) one blonde man turned to the other. If he could have responded, and have been heard, he'd have said, "You can't be serious." But since this was a dance club, and the music was loud and the people were too, all he could do was look up and look incredulous. 

The other blonde man responded exactly as he would if the room were prefectly silent: he smiled. 

Ever dance drunk? Your limbs flail, you don't care, it is simply wonderful to move. 

The music seemed to sympathize with their business today, the room got just quiet enough for words to be spoken. 

"What do you want?" 

"Payback." 

"You can't do this to me." Tachi stood up, eyes wild. 

Touma smiled gently and didn't bother to respond. 

"I'm worth more then that!" 

"Not anymore." 

Sharp downbeat, the bass took over again. Eyes met eyes and no more words were spoken. 

Dancing drunk, you flop around the dance floor and touching people isn't difficult at all. This sweaty rythym of music was everywhere, this was dancing inside some great heart, abandoning one's sense of self to music. You feel like you're winning when there is no competition. 

_There is a single pillar inside of him, that holds up his entire being. A single pillar between his cock and his brain that holds it all upright. It is made out pure granite, it is made out of workmen's stone, there is no grace to it, no beautiful carvings. It is ultilitarian in its beauty, perfect for its function. It is what keeps him alive._

He got up and felt dizzy, he flung a desperate look at Ma-kun and Ken-chan, who were both looking at the twin contracts sitting on the table. 

"God." He said outloud, because he knew no one could hear. He was sick and dizzy. 

He felt a great pillar inside him crack. 

No. 

No, god no. 

Hasn't Touma taken enough? 

He could never expect Ma-kun and Ken-chan to keep him under these conditions. 

From across the table, Touma gave him the kindest smile. Inside his head, for a bare moment, he could remember the sound of the sidwalk and the noise of the car coming to a complete halt. 

He turned and walked away from them all, pushed his way back through the dancing crowd. Various random strangers reached out and touched his shirt, because this was the closest they'd ever gotten to anyone who was more or less famous. The flashing coloured lights struck so many interesting haircuts, changing the hue with each new rotating cel. 

And then he caught her. Caught sight of her. Caught her elbow. 

She turned around and looked up at him with pretty blue eyes. His eyes narrowed and for a moment he was too violent to think clearly. Violent, ready to shred. Full of heat and rage and jealousy and resentment. Ready to butcher whatever bastard got in his way. For a moment, that was all. But he calmed down enough a moment later, forced a smooth smile. 

He leaned in close to her, and she allowed it because she found him attractive. 

He leaned in close to her, and a lock of her pretty pink hair brushed his lips. 

"Hi." He said up against her ear, in his best carrying whisper. When she rotated her head so her lips were against his ear to whisper 'hello' back, he knew he had her. 

He pursed his lips for a moment to capture a lock of her pink hair, and she laughed. 

In the parking lot there was a great sense of absence, the lack of music making itself known. He'd been aggressive about it. He'd wrapped his arm around her petite waist and guided her towards the door, making as if he wanted to talk. She probably didn't think for one second that talking was actually on his agenda. They both pretended as though it was as a matter of formality. 

When they reached a place where they could properly hold a private conversation, they both turned at each other. 

She had a short, almost boyish haircut with dyed pink hair and pretty blue eyes and a little pixie chin. She was absolutely adorable. 

"So." She said at him, smiled a little off to one side. 

"So..." He said back at her. 

They looked at each other for a second, and she was about to continue with the 'conversation' when he leaned in to kiss her. Seduction made easy, she didn't resist even a little bit. 

The near-flight to the hotel room was not wasted on thought. He was not thinking about losing his whole world. He was not thinking about one of his closest friends hitting on him, or a record deal he'd never ever get again, he was not thinking about anything at all more complicated then where to park the car. He refused to think about those things. He refused to acknowledge they even existed. Fuck it. He was going to dive head first into the pleasent oblivion of sex. 

He pulled over only once for condoms and alcohol. She made it hard by kissing at his ear and talking cute. He wasn't sure if he even liked the cute talk or not but he loved her voice. Or simply the fact that she was talking to him. Or maybe it was just the fact that the breath against his ear felt pleasent. 

The hotel room and he still couldn't calm down. He knew already he was too aggressive right now to fuck a woman. Or at least, not a girl. The room details didn't even strike him. He was too blurred by emotion and need. He clutched at her with frustration and desire. 

God, her waist was too small. 

Her body was too soft. 

He ran a hand against her back and felt a band of fabric where her bra should be. Sports bra, nothing to it, slip to over her head and she's set to go. 

He reached around her and started to yank off clothing, he pushed against her a little too hard -- making the foreplay more like a wrestling event then anything else. 

And he grit his teeth at just how soft she was, how perfectly dainty. He felt like she'd snap in his arms if he held too tight. 

He felt like he was fighting something he was destined to lose. Out of control, an almost frenzy, he was trying to calm down with all his skill and utterly losing the battle. None of her skin made him feel good. None of her softness made him wild. Her adorable dainty soft frame did absolutely nothing for him. And he felt like he was going to go fucking mad trying to grasp at satisfaction. 

How long could you need something and never achieve and not go utterly insane? 

God, he couldn't even define it anymore. 

He _needed._

She was too soft. 

He jerked away from her suddenly, pulled off the bed and went for the paper sack they'd dumped on a chair. He fished out the liqour first and started to pull off the plastic cap. 

"You'd don't have to wrestle me you know." She said up at him, her dark eyebrows puckered at him with annoyance. 

"Bad Luck." He said after a long liqour gasp. 

"Huh?" 

"Heard of them?" 

She beamed and pointed at her head. "I buy the same brand hair dye." 

"ASK?" 

"'ASK' what?" 

He capped the liqour bottle and dropped his eyes. He slid the bottle back into the paper sack. "Nevermind." But he exhaled once and felt dizzy and out of control. "Never... mind." And he closed his eyes and felt himself crumple a little bit more. He was aware now of the state of the air, the way the fabric of his shirt felt against his shoulders. He was aware now of the noise of her on the bed. 

"You know..." She started, but didn't quite finish. The catch in her voice was there because she was a woman who sensed danger. 

"You should go." He said, feeling dizzier and dizzier. 

"Yeah." 

The world, he closed his eyes, the world is lost.   
  
  
  


"Don't feel pressured," Touma's voice. 

"'Don't feel pressured'?" Ma-kun parroted back at him. "How could I possibly --" But he stopped, and decided that questioning Seguchi wasn't a wise idea. Amusement glinted dangerously in Touma's eyes, and Ma-kun knew what that meant by now. 

"I hold no grudge against either of you." Touma was adjusting his hat, now, against the wind. "So there is no real point in punishing you for another's wrong doings." 

"Without Tachi --" 

"Without Tachi, you make a great deal of money." Touma smiled again, "Good evening," and he ducked into his car and drove away. 

All they did was watch. Ma-kun looked at Ken-chan, and Ken-chan looked at Ma-kun. 

"It is a lot of money."   
  
  
  


Emptiness. 

Sincere, emptiness. 

This is a world, without anything. Void. 

Tachi drank straight from the bottle. 

He could remember the place of fire. The torrent on the mountian, he knew where it was. He could intellectually place it somewhere just a few months ago. Rage, Violence, Need, he remembered what all that felt like. It was rather a clear, concise memory. It needed no further wording to convey, then the utter perfect fire of it's previous existance. 

He wanted. 

He needed. 

That defined him. 

Without it, it was as if the one vital thread that held together his form had been pulled, and he was unraveling into a shaggy picture of himself. 

There was nothing left for him to destroy. 

No great palaces to raze. 

No blood to bask in. 

No pure hate to wreck hell upon. 

Nothing.  
Nothing.  
Nothing.  


But a bottle of rice wine and an empty hotel room. 

This is your world. It isn't as narrow as where your vision ends, it isn't as dull or usual. Every moment you are alive, it is with perfect purpose. He had nightmares sometimes, nightmares about being devoured by it, lost under an avelanche of this purity. He was only passion, and he was only the moment when this gripped him. And inside his mind there was a flood of visions of the corrupt and the pain of loss. He would deny heaven if he had to, he would give up forgiveness. And in the end, he felt himself turn into a monster, a thing which was created and not born. 

There was some part of him that regretted becoming this. 

But most of him didn't. No regret. 

The light in the room was a soft pale yellow, it sat on the furniture heavily, as if it were solid, as if it had weight. The room was tiny, being only a bed and a small bathroom that was just large enough for a toilet, a shower, and a narrow sink. The white walls looked yellow from the overhead lamp. The room had a smell that was half old dust and half new disinfectant. Every moment he was there he felt as if he were losing, losing more and more. 

He wasn't drunk even though he wanted to be. 

He could see the forumula of the movement inside his head, he knew what was going to happen next. 

His stomach turned with sickness. 

Christ, he just wanted to stop for a little while. Just a little while. 

Just to rest. _ On the matter of the lawsuit of NG versus ASK: NG agrees upon the following guidlines, should the requirements be met: _

A) NG agrees to drop all litigation against the entity known as ASK, for breech of contract 

B) NG agrees to sign the entity known as ASK for the pre-agreed dollar amount, to be paid on a monthly basis 

C) NG agrees that the entity known as ASK shall have no less then (3) albums pressed under their record label   
and   
D) NG agrees to pay all studio fees for all albums under their label, and will collect the same percentage of income as the previous contract stipulates. 

Requirements: 

The band member Aizawa Tachi must, on all counts, be striken from the band ASK, or this and all future contracts shall be null and void. 


	4. The Conversation After the Event

After unequivocal failure, there is only silence. 

Tachi was resting, mostly because well, he wasn't sure what else to do. So he was sitting on the floor, because it was cool there, because it felt appropriate. He was braced against the bed and he was staring at his backpack slouching against the wall across the small room. He could see the top of the grocery store bag, containing the liquor and condoms, sticking out the top.

He should have just fucked her. At least then he'd have been distracted for a little while.

His cell phone, which was still inside his bag, had gone off a good fifteen times by now. He'd ignored it each time. He hadn't been in the mood for talk. Besides, who could it have been? Ma-kun, with his placating attitude and logic. Logic, who gave a shit about logic? Ma-kun's was always twisted.

And here, it went off again. Tachi's eyes flicked down to the place he knew the phone was in his bag, considered moving towards it and picking up. Why should he?

But he crawled the few feet towards the opposite wall, swung around so that his back was braced against it, and sat down. He pulled it out of the outer pocket of his backpack, and looked at it as it flashed with each ring.

Ma-kun, of course.

He looked at it until it finished ringing, and then when it stopped, he dropped his hand to the ground and leaned back up against the wall and looked across the small room to the unused bed.

He felt as if, the air had weight and texture. He examined the slightly mussed blankets on the bed, traced the patterns created by the individual fibers of the fabric with his eyes. He was drifting, not entirely convinced of the situation, willing to allow himself a little emptiness.

To recap: he was fucked. No way out now, nothing could be made better. Life is all gone. Wonderful, just wonderful, exactly what he hoped to be thinking.

Tachi closed his eyes and tilted his head back, until his head bonked lightly against the wall. He heaved out a long sigh, and that's it. The light was ugly and artificial in the room, and the twin lamps cast a double shadow of his profile against the wall. One was lighter, and one was darker. Minutes went by, and after a while, Tachi couldn't quite take the silence any more.

As much as he felt unable to do anything but sit, he really didn't have a choice but to take some type of action. He couldn't sit on his ass forever.

And anyways, it was against his nature to do so.

He thought at first, that he'd call Ma-kun and get it over with.

But it'd be so much better if Ma-kun called him first.

So then it turned into a waiting game. 

Tachi reached into his backpack and pulled out his MP3 player, hit 'play' and waited for it to start up and play the music. He heard a soft scuffle sound as it started to play, and he stared at the Sony label, watched the tiny equalizer rise and drop rhythmically to the beat of the first track. Then the tiny, far away sound of music came out of his headphones, a bass that was too much for the small speakers and a synth melody. Tachi grabbed the cord at the end of the headphones and yanked them out of his backpack, nearly breaking the fragile plastic in the process.

He stuck them in his ears and let the music take over. It was a dance beat, strong and motivating, full of movement, drive, and energy. More than a little unsuitable for the situation, but he liked it. He let the music tell him how to feel. 

He liked music better inside headphones.

On the dance floor, he hardly had any time to notice the words of the songs, only the beat. On the dance floor, that's all that matters anyways. That's why you master out the vocals in dance mixes - no one gives a shit about them on the dance floor. If you're listening to the words on the dance floor, you're probably bored.

But he was listening to the words now.

It was a good song.

And he liked music.

And everything good that comes with it.

He wanted a cigarette, but felt too lazy to get up and smoke one.

This song wasn't bad. It had a decent beat, slightly boring words, and a sort of catchy melody. ASK could write a song this good in a heartbeat, Ken was that good. But he'd ripped this song from an album, and they've yet to actually put one to press. So apparently, this band had done something right that they hadn't.

Or -

But he couldn't think about any of that shit. Because the past is dead. Because he felt no regret.

And he was waiting for his cell phone to ring for the sixteenth time. He knew Ma-kun would eventually call. It was tradition. And if everything else was fucked up in the universe, their little trio would still adhere to their traditional "Tachi's fucked up" dynamics.

Because, obviously, they had to be used to having a fuckup in the band by now. They'd certainly had enough time to get used to it.

So it was a matter of patience now.

Patience, and battery life.

He listened to his music, and waited.

_ -- the conversation_

Ma-kun was looking at the phone and trying to decide if his own pride had deflated enough for him to call Tachi one more time. He wasn't entirely sure. He liked having pride, and having to actually call Tachi when Tachi was the one who should be doing all the calling was a little beyond his grasp at that moment in time.

But even as he was thinking, "I won't do it," he was picking up the phone and dialing the number -- just one more time.

Before the first ring even totally completed, and before Ma-kun even expected the phone to be answered, he heard Tachi's voice.

"Yo."

Pause, blink, "Oh." He was caught flat-footed.

"'Oh'? Is that it?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting you to answer. I thought you were pouting."

"Heh," Tachi's voice had a digital static to it, blockish bits were missing here and there.

"Move to a window or something, you're breaking up."

"I'm breaking up." It sounded like a statement, and Ma-kun chose to ignore it.

He wasn't sure what to say.

"I don't know what to say." Tachi said aloud.

"Me neither." Ma-kun answered.

And they both fell into silence. Tachi's phone was digital, so when he wasn't talking, Ma-kun heard nothing at all. He thought for a moment that Tachi had hung up, "Hello?"

"What?" Tachi's voice was a little more irritable.

"Oh," Ma-kun felt better, "I thought you hung up."

"Well, I didn't."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Hear it."

"Shut up."

And Tachi did.

And Ma-kun did as well.

They both leaned back where they were sitting and sighed at the same time; neither of them had started the phone call with a clear plan or goal.

"Tachi --"

"Yes?"

"I want to see you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I fucking said so."

"Oh."

And they became quiet again.

"Tachi." And he was stumped.

"What?"

"We need to talk."

"We are talking."

"In person."

"No."

"Fuck."

"Heh."

"God damn it, why are you so fucking"

"Fucking what?"

"Fucking disagreeable."

"I am who I am."

"Tachi, there is no way we can keep you. There just isn't. How stupid do you think we are? We know what happens when bands switch lead singers. It's never the same after that. But let's face facts --"

"Oh, let's."

"We can't keep you."

"I'm your lead." He said stubbornly, gritting his teeth, feeling aggression make its way into his bones.

"Oh, come on Tachi," And Ma-kun attempted to be funny, "You were always worth shit for the band anyways, now that this whole mess is in the air, what else is left for you?" It sounded more brutal than he intended it to be.

"I suppose I could be your bitch, wouldn't that be nice?" The digital static took out tiny, symmetrical pieces of the sentence. _I [empty]up-ose[.] I coul[d-] be y[.]r bitch._

Ma-kun closed his eyes and tried to think of a way out of this.

"Isn't that what you want anyways? Huh? Oh, come on, just fucking admit it already. That's what you want. Well fine, why don't you just take it? If it keeps me in the band, I don't care anyways." _Ju[-]st admit it [...] that's what you wa[]nt anyway[s]?_

He sighed heavily into the phone, and didn't speak.

"Huh. Right. Here I am, offering myself to you. Don't want me anymore, huh? Yeah. I understand. I understand just fine." Tiny symmetrical bites of sound. Tachi's voice lacked substance, it was drained away by the cell phone. "I can't imagine why." And his voice was dry. "Fft."

The silence became an emotion.

"Ma-kun," there was almost a singsong to Tachi's voice. "Why do you want me?" He wasn't hanging up the phone without slicing out his chunk of flesh.

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on. Is it my ass?" There was sharpness to his tone. "My hair? Do you like arrogant bastards or something? Or maybe it's my voice, maybe you heard me sing for all these years and turned into a star fucker like everyone else. Is that it? Are you a fan girl?" And his voice was mean and cutting, "If that's the case, you know how I am with fan girls, right? Use them up like tissue paper. Why not. One, is just like the other."

Ma-kun shook his head and pinched the narrow bit between his eyes, breathed and listened, couldn't entirely figure out something to say. "You're being illogical."

"Illogical." Tachi parroted back sarcastically. "What sort of logic should I apply to this situation, huh? Tell me, since I am so stupid."

"We've known each other for years," Ma-kun started.

"Yeah, so?"

"So, why do you think we've kept you for so long? You're a pain in the ass, Tachi. There aren't very many good reasons to keep you around."

"Oh, I give up, why?"

"We like you. I like you. You're not so bad when you aren't trying so hard to be."

Digital silence, once again.

Tachi let out a soft laugh, which manifested as a blot of static on Ma-kun's side. Tachi shook his head, and said, lowly, "You shouldn't." As an afterthought, Tachi almost spoke of the band, but felt to weary to say anything else.

"Why?"

And a little fissure rent itself open, "What do you mean 'why?'?" Tachi's voice was nearly vicious. "It's fucking obvious why every time I speak, every time I move, every god damn minute I'm alive. There is no reason for me to be here."_ There [.]s no reason[..] here._

"Don't pull the angst ridden artist thing on me, Tachi. It doesn't work anymore, I'm tired of it, stop."

"Fuck you, OK?"

"No, fuck you. I like you. Deal with it."

"You shouldn't." And this time it was nearly breathless, hard to understand when it was hissed through grit teeth. "It's not healthy. You shouldn't. I'm dangerous. You shouldn't, Ma-kun."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Oh, fuck, Tachi, say something a little more convincing than that."

"Because of what I did." And Tachi let it hit the air, stay there, and hover before he moved on. "Because of what I did to him, to us. Because I deserve this. Because I don't deserve to be in ASK anymore, because ... just, because. Okay? Because this is the end, and I'm tired." He couldn't believe his own words. Didn't deserve ASK? Wasn't he begging for it just seconds ago?

"Tachi --"

"Shut up. It's true." And Tachi was determined now to drive Ma-kun away, "Do you want to know what I did?" What was wrong with his brain?

"I know what you did."

Why did he keep changing his mind? 

"No, you don't. Do you want to know what I did? Do you? The details, all the lovely details? The gory, gorgeous details of that fucking transaction? Do you? Huh? Well I'll fucking tell you whether you want to hear it or not." And he was breathing hard, and he felt a little dizzy, and he pushed forwards because this was necessary, because it was too late, because he wanted to horrify Ma-kun. "We." And he grit his teeth and felt something unexplainable inside him. "We, raped him." And he was breathing hard, and he felt dizzy, and he felt beyond control. "We did it." He forced himself to exhale deeply, forced himself to focus. What details should he say out loud first? What could he say that would make Ma-kun leave him alone forever?

But what about saving his career?  
But what about being the best?  
But what about hating Shindou?  
But what about ---  
But what about winning?

"The air was so cold." He couldn't unclench his jaw.

But what about...

"The air, was so cold. And I hated him, with all my fucking soul."

But what about, music?  
What about...  
What about fear?  
What about losing it all?  
What about being alone forever?  
What about losing... what about...

"I hated him, so fucking much. Do you understand that? Do you? Do you know how it feels to actually, honestly, hate something?" He was almost hyperventilating. "It's... amazing."

Why is it, every time he opened his mouth, he was filled with the urge to confess?

"It's amazing, Ma-kun. It's heat, and fire. It's... forgetting everything that makes you reasonable and human. It's lust. And that's what I felt. I'm afraid to use that word anymore, because it means so much to me now. 'Lust.'" He was panting. "And I looked at him, and I heard those fists hit his body. It was... the sound of.... meat. The sound of violence. And I watched those guys hit him, over and over again, and I thought to myself, that hitting wasn't enough. That it wasn't as close to destroying him as I wanted. That I wanted to destroy him. That I wanted to tear apart his insides. That I wanted to be something that went inside him and cursed him forever. That I wanted him to fail. That I wanted him to ache. That I wanted to claw him apart." And he was talking fast, and he had forgotten he was even talking to Ma-kun. And every time he paused, he felt feverish and he'd remember he was on the phone. And he was pressing the phone so hard against his ear, his ear started to ache.

"That I was better than he was. That I was better, and I wanted him to hurt. And I wanted it to last forever. I wanted him to ache when he was alone. I wanted him to pay. So it was my idea. So... we all took turns." And he went vague. "Do you want to know what it sounds like?"

"...no.."

"Just like sex." And he shook his head and looked up. "Just like regular sex. Just louder."

Ma-kun shook his head and looked down, he didn't want to hear about Tachi's dark side. He wanted to forget it was there.

"That's all. Just louder. And, he didn't lay there like a fish when we did it. He thrashed and moaned, like a whore putting on a god damn show." Tachi felt hot all over, felt like vomiting. "And... that's what it was like."

Digital silence, all over again.

"It doesn't seem fair." Tachi said quietly. "It should have sounded like violence. But it sounded just like regular sex."

Symmetrical pieces of sound, missing.

"Just louder."

His voice sounded tinny, echoey from the cell phone.

"That's all, it was just, louder."

Ma-kun felt like vomiting.

"There." Tachi said at him. "You don't want me anymore."_ -- do[]nn want me anymore._

And Tachi hung up.

And Tachi was right. And Ma-kun felt tired. He got up from his couch, stood up and then immediately sat back down and looked at the floor.

What kind of sick person was attracted to a man like that?

Ma-kun shook his head, and couldn't stop feeling sick. He'd thought he'd accepted it already. He'd thought that he'd forgiven Tachi for it. He'd thought that he could move on without thinking of it.

But apparently, Tachi couldn't get over it himself.

And maybe Tachi was right.

Maybe Tachi did deserve to rot in hell, alone.

Ma-kun wanted to get drunk, quickly, but he knew that it would be counterproductive. 

He decided to let Tachi have his theatrics for a few more minutes, and then he'd call back and find out where he was.

But less than a second later, he picked up the phone and called back.

And there was no answer.

And he hung up the phone, and told himself to give up, that Tachi was gone.

And he redialed, and Tachi didn't answer. He told himself that Tachi was an awful human being who probably deserved to be treated like trash.

And he hung up the phone, and then he redialed again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

"God, stop calling." Tachi whispered at the phone. And he closed his eyes. "Stop calling before I fucking answer."

When the phone stopped ringing, he felt relief. He'd won. He was alone.

(What about music? What about desire? What about life? What about friendship? What about winning?)

He was glad. He was glad he won. He was glad Ma-kun had stopped calling. He was glad he was alone. He was glad he finally chased them away.

(What about... what... what next?)

The phone rang. And Tachi squeezed his eyes tight to prevent himself from crying. 

(What about winning?)  
(What about... Ma-kun?)

And he snatched the phone up on the sixth ring. "What!?" He shouted into the phone. "Stop calling me, god damn it! What do you want?"

"Where are you?"

"No."

Big boys don't cry.  
Tachi wanted to lose.

"Come on." Ma-kun said, gently. "Come on, let me be there. Please."

Tachi felt sick.

"Don't do this to me. God damn it. Stop it. Kick me out of the god damn band and get it over with. You pussy, I'd do it. I'd kick you out of NG offered me that kind of money. I wouldn't even think about it. I'd just do it. Fuck you, I wouldn't even consider keeping you an option. You'd be out of my life so fucking fast I'd fucking have whiplash. Stop. Calling."

"Good thing I'm not you."

"Just leave me alone you fucking faggot!" And he thought that right now would be a good time to hang up the phone. But he didn't.

"Tachi..." More patience. "Tell me where you are. I'm going to come over."

"No." And now he just sounded like a boy.

"Yes."

"No!"

"Tachi." Ma-kun's voice was so patient. "Tachi, it's going to be alright. Quit freaking out, and just tell me where you're at. I can't fix anything over the phone."

Tachi hung his head, felt himself wilt.

He was losing.

Maybe sometimes it's not so bad to lose. And maybe sometimes comfort wasn't weakness.

Why didn't he have the strength to resist this? Why did it make him so god damn weak? He'd lost the band, why didn't that matter to him? Why was the idea of Ma-kun coming over at once frightening and desperately needed? Why -- "Okay." And he sounded like a little boy. "Okay." And he felt like a little boy. 

Because he was in pain, and he was a human being. And when human beings hurt, they crave comfort.

And Ma-kun was saving him again.

Pathetic.  



	5. A Glint

It was half a bottle of rice wine -- half a bottle to imbibe and warm a body, clear and slow inside the green glass, half a bottle of bland ricey taste, to nauseate and relax a reticent conscience -- it was half a bottle of rice wine, and only half a bottle of rice wine, that kept him still while he waited.

A great deal of him wanted to leave, but after half a bottle of rice wine, he was far too mellow to really give a shit. It was half a bottle on an empty stomach, so it acted quickly on him.

He just stood at the window, looking out. Tachi could see his reflection in the window: droopy eyes, a rounded face and black ratty hair, garnished by a nearly metallic club shirt and black pants. Tachi was relaxed, not drunk. Tachi was not drunk, mostly because he was a little afraid to be drunk. Tachi wasn't sure if he could trust his drunk self around Ma-kun. But he needed the alcohol to be calm, even though he couldn't stop pacing and wringing his hands. He was nervous, but at least the alcohol calmed him a little. He didn't know what was going to happen, what judgments would be passed.

He touched the drapes, and leaned close to the window until the cool glass touched his forehead, and stared out to the asphalt of the road. He was waiting for a taxi, a motorcycle, an elephant -- how would Ma-kun arrive, anyways?

A taxi, of course. The yellow cab pulled up to the front of the hotel, and Ma-kun stepped out and looked around the 'C' shaped motel complex. Tachi watched him but didn't wave. After a moment, Ma-kun oriented himself, and tracked the numbers on the door until his eyes landed on the room Tachi was in.

The taxi pulled away.

Ma-kun started to walk towards him.

Tachi closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed. He couldn't tell himself that everything would be alright, but he was at least able to tell himself it would all be over soon. He wished he was wearing something less flashy. He wished he hadn't had any alcohol at all. He wished that his pride had stayed true long enough to last through Ma-kun's persistent phone calls.

When Ma-kun reached the door, there was a pause on both sides, for both of them to collect themselves. And then the doorknob partially turned, and was stopped by the lock. And then there was a careful knock at the door.

Tachi didn't allow himself time to think, he went to the door and opened it. He didn't look up to meet Ma-kun's eyes. His eyes focused for a moment on Ma-kun's white and black wingtip shoes. And then Ma-kun took the two steps forward into the small hotel room, and put his arms around Tachi before either of them could shut the door.

It was too warm.

But Tachi didn't want to let go. So he pushed Ma-kun away forcibly after a few seconds, only to be drawn back. He shut his eyes. He had to admit to himself that he was accepting a hug. Amazing how his pride evaporated in the middle of all this shit, how could he possibly _accept_ this? Ma-kun pushed him a little away now and brushed his hair away from his face. Tachi frowned and pulled a little back, but Ma-kun's grip on his arm didn't quite loosen.

"You okay?"

It was a little funny, Tachi wanted to laugh, but he didn't. He evaded Ma-kun's eyes. "Let go of me." He was exceedingly conscious of the opened door.

"Why?"

Tachi shook his head 'no' and this time, he pushed Ma-kun away, and walked deeper into the small hotel room.

"Tired," Tachi said. He felt heavy all over, unable to focus.

"How much have you had to drink?"

Tachi shrugged. He was honestly unsure, and wasn't totally committed to caring. 

Ma-kun stepped deeper into the room, looked about and took note of the made bed.

"Shut the door."

Ma-kun kicked it shut without looking.

He walked to the bottle of liquor on the floor, picked it up and examined it.

"Not much," Tachi answered belatedly. "Haven't had much to drink. Just, haven't eaten. It's making me tired. Normally I like that."

Ma-kun sighed and shook his head, "This can't be healthy."

"I've totally abandoned that notion." And he paced a small circle, wondering what to do with himself with someone else in the room. He wasn't used to it. Normally, a room like this doesn't see much conversation.

"Why don't you sit down?"

"Where?"

"The bed -?"

"No." Tachi frowned at the very thought of being on a bed with Ma-kun in the room. It made him edgy, and almost fearfully excited.

"The floor then, I hate watching people pace."

Tachi whirled in a circle almost by accident, and looked up at Ma-kun's face. His face was perfect. "Your bruises are gone."

"Yeah."

"I almost got used to them."

Ma-kun laughed, "Has anyone ever told you that you say just the shittiest things sometimes?"

"Yeah," Tachi nodded, looked away from Ma-kun again, "Lots of people."

"Come sit down. Stop evading the issue."

"What issue?"

"Sit."

And so Tachi did. He sat with his back braced against the wall, while Ma-kun sat with his braced against the bed. The space between the two was short, and the carpet was nubby and brown. Tachi picked at it.

"All the way over there?"

"I'm not that far away." And he kept his eyes down. He hated looking directly at Ma-kun. Every time he did he felt self-conscious.

"Well, I'd rather you were closer."

"Why?"

"Just because."

"Oh." Tachi rested his chin on his knees and kept picking at the carpet.

"... you know why we can't keep you."

"Why do you think that's the issue? I said you should ditch me. I told you I'd ditch you if I were given the same choice. That's a fucking sanction if you ask me."

"You always say shit you don't mean."

"...whatever." He didn't want to think about anything right at that moment, the liquor was traveling through his limbs and gently numbing his emotions. He wasn't even sure why he allowed Ma-kun to come over.

"Tachi..." Ma-kun's voice was coaxing and careful.

"Yeah?"

"Come here." And a hand wrapped around his ankle, and tugged at him. "Sit by me."

"Why?"

"Why not?" The hand tugged again. "Come on, sit by me."

"You want to sit with me so bad, you come over here."

"No."

Tachi shrugged, an implied 'whatever' in his shoulders.

"...Tachi..." And he felt his leg dragged from crooked to straight, so that his foot was nearer to Ma-kun, shoe and all.

"What?"

"Come, here."

"Why do I have to go over by you?"

"Because, I want _you_ to come to _me_, for a change."

"Heh," Tachi looked to the wall. "What's that mean?"

"Come on."

Tachi frowned a bit, looked cautiously up at Ma-kun -- he didn't trust himself to look up completely, he felt for some reason there was something in his face that betrayed him when he looked into Ma-kun's face. Ma-kun smiled at him. Tachi sighed, dragged himself up, turned himself around, and sat down next to Ma-kun, who immediately put his arm around Tachi's shoulders and shook him a bit.

"See?" Lips near Tachi's ear, "Not so bad, is it?"

Tachi shook his head, 'no', and felt Ma-kun's lips grow nearer and farther away with each motion of his head. It made his face hot. He still didn't want to look Ma-kun in the eye.

He decided, on his own, that he felt humiliated.

"Tachi?" Ma-kun's voice was a great deal softer now, with Tachi so close.

"Hn?"

"You know we can't keep you." Ma-kun was whispering in his ear. "You know that."

Tachi nodded 'yes'. The world felt beyond argument.

"But I don't want to lose you, okay? I don't want to lose you because of something like this."

"Something like this?" Tachi smiled, closed his eyes, and hung his head, "Something like this. I love the fucking band, I'd do anything for it."

"I think that's a demonstrated fact. You did too much."

Sickness invaded his head, he felt as though he were breathing in pure steam. The air was thick and grotesque; he tried to push Ma-kun away.

"Stop that." Ma-kun said sharply, "don't push me away now. This is important."

Tachi frowned and dropped his eyes, this time in an act of denial, he could feel Ma-kun wanting eye contact. He wasn't going to give it.

"You pout too much." Ma-kun chastised, "Damn it, Tachi. You are not the victim here. This isn't some random act specifically against you. There is absolutely nothing random about it."

"I'm getting what I deserve." Tachi agreed.

And then they both stopped talking.

They both continued to sit on the floor in silence for some number of minutes. Ma-kun didn't remove his arm from Tachi's shoulders. Tachi was too apathetic to push his arm away. The bed pressed into Tachi's spine in two places. He could feel the static in the air, it made his shirt cling to his arms. Ma-kun's body was making him almost too warm in the hotel room, and just when he thought to himself that he was uncomfortable enough to push Ma-kun away, Ma-kun put both his arms around Tachi and pulled him close for another hug.

"I wish there was something I could say." Ma-kun said into his ear again. "Or do. I don't know, Tachi. God, you just make me want to take care of you."

For some reason that made Tachi hurt, so he tried to ignore it. He let out a hoarse, single laugh that sounded completely inappropriate, "I'm not broken."

"Yeah you are."

And Tachi couldn't come up with a retort. And Tachi didn't want to pull away. It felt too good to pull away. He swallowed around a tightness in his throat, and made himself put his arms around Ma-kun. They both sighed in turn, and stayed that way. It didn't fix anything, but for a moment they didn't care. After a while, Ma-kun started to lightly stroke his hair, petting him. It didn't occur to him to object. He hadn't had anyone touch him like this in a long time. He couldn't even remember the last time he had anything similar. Maybe when he was a child, and his mother was kind to him. Maybe his first girlfriend -- no, definitely not her. Maybe not even his mother. But it was so kind, and it was so warm, and he needed it so badly... he wasn't entirely certain he cared. It just felt good. Comforting. And that was really enough for the moment. A moment, and that's it. He couldn't really expect anything more than that. When he reminded himself that he shouldn't, his soul ached. Not for long, because he wouldn't allow it, but just enough for him to tighten his arms a little around Ma-kun, just enough for him to cling for a few seconds. 

And maybe that was when Ma-kun misconstrued it, because Ma-kun smoothly pushed him away at that moment, and tilted Tachi's face so that they made eye contact. Ma-kun had blue eyes. It felt perfectly natural, perfectly suited for the moment. They kissed.

Very gentle, very tender, very present, and difficult to ignore and block. Tachi wasn't even aware that he was supposed to for a second. He felt a warm slat of sunlight against his face, streaming in from the small window. He felt the uncomfortable press of the bed and the carpet against his body. He felt the light, soft presence of Ma-kun's lips against his own. 

And then he realized what they were doing, and shoved Ma-kun away, felt his whole face grow incredibly hot. He couldn't breathe right, "Don't do that." He stood up and walked to the window, squinted at the light. And he went and sat on the bed for a moment, stood up immediately after that when he realized it was the bed, sat back down again when he realized it was the only place to sit aside from the floor. Then he decided the floor was a better place to sit than the bed was -- a safer place, anyways -- and slid off the bed onto the floor, about two feet away from where he'd been sitting previously. He wrapped his arms around his knees and shut his eyes to avoid having to see Ma-kun's face.

He was embarrassed.

Ma-kun laughed for just a moment, and crawled the two feet towards Tachi, and kissed the top of his head. "God, Tachi -- don't act cute, it kills me every time."

"Oh, fuck you." Tachi snapped, offended.

"I'm sorry, but that was."

"Stop it." And tossed a look up to Ma-kun that should have been growling. But Ma-kun laughed at him and then shook his head. Ma-kun tried to wrap his arms around Tachi one more time. Tachi frowned and pushed away Ma-kun's arms, so the two of them flailed at each other for a moment, before Ma-kun caught one of Tachi's hands and squeezed it, and gently instructed him to quit acting like a child. "Why are you so touchy, anyways?" Tachi frowned at him again, a crease between his black eyebrows.

"I like touching you."

"You never did before."

"Yeah, I did. I just didn't because you hated it so much."

"So why the fuck isn't that saving me right now?"

"Because now I know you don't really hate it."

"Well, how do you know?" Tachi demanded of him, indignant. 

"I don't know, Tachi, what do you think?"

"Fucking smartass."

Ma-kun smiled at the familiarity of it all, and Tachi just sat there and resented it. They both looked at each other for a while, challenging one another to see their side. Eventually, Ma-kun just laughed and Tachi just muttered and looked away, once again snubbing him.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't sound sorry."

"I don't feel sorry, either."

"Then why say it?"

"To expedite things."

"Oh." Another implied 'whatever' in his voice. His stomach was starting to feel acidic while he was jousting with Ma-kun, but he ignored it out of sheer pride.

"You know..." Ma-kun started... phased out, and then tried to restart again, "We really should, talk."

Tachi shook his head, "I don't feel like it." He just wanted rest, now. He was starting to feel tired again, and his stomach being eaten away by worry. "I'm just tired now."

"Probably hungry, too."

"No, I feel sick."

"But that's probably why --"

"Ugh." Tachi made a face of light disgust, "No, that'd make me feel even worse."

Ma-kun looked at him, tried to gauge how much of his statement was a lie, and then shrugged at him. "Your call. Tachi?"

"Un?"

"You're not going to let this get in the way of our friendship, are you?"

That could refer to any number of things by now. "You know, maybe I am hungry."

"Ta -"

"I think it'd settle my stomach." Tachi made significant eye contact, choose to drop a significant hint. "Food. Maybe eating would help. Too bad I don't have any. Just more booze."

"Well…" Ma-kun sounded unsure for a moment. "There's a McDonalds down the street a ways. It wouldn't take too long to walk there, I guess."

"Yes. Yeah. Yeah, great idea." He cringed again at how eager he sounded when he said that. "That sounds good to me. I'll take -- whatever."

"So I'm ordering for you AND paying for you."

Tachi reached for his wallet.

"No, no, no, it's alright. I'd really rather hold this over your head in the future, if you don't mind." And then Ma-kun gave Tachi his most irrepressible grin.

Tachi frowned at him.

Ma-kun grinned larger.

"Okay, it'll be a while. Lie down, sleep off some of that liquor."

"What? No. I'm checking out."

"Why? We're here already."

"It's a hotel room."

"So -?"

"Soooo..." He didn't want to be there alone with Ma-kun. "So, if I check out now, I could get my money back."

"I seriously doubt that. Besides, if you check out, then why should I walk to the McDonalds alone? If you check out you should just come with me. How would I find you if you left?"

Tachi was just trying to get rid of him now. "Alright, alright. Fine. I'm starving. Go. I won't check out."

Ma-kun nodded once at him, "Good." And he reached forwards spontaneously and ruffled Tachi's hair. "And take a shower. You look like shit."

Scowl, "Anything else?"

"I could write you a list."

"Get the fuck out."

So he did.

Tachi went back to fiddling for a bit. He sat on the bed, once the door was safely closed. He paused, and then lay down, the alcohol finally putting him right to sleep.

  
  
  
  


Ma-kun was walking down the road towards the McDonalds, mildly thoughtful. Mostly out of focus, but mildly thoughtful. He was thinking about the future of the band, he was thinking about his own future, he was thinking about Tachi's future. He was thinking about being poor and noble versus being rich and.... rich. He was thinking about what he was going to order once he got to McDonald's.

But mostly, he had to admit, he was thinking about being locked in a hotel room alone with Tachi. Preoccupied with that thought, to be more exact. So much so, that he accidentally walked past the McDonald's at first. He had to backtrack in order to get into the heavy swinging door. Upon entering, he simply got in line and proceeded to think a little more.

Alone in a room with Tachi. A hotel room. Why was that so much more meaningful than when they were alone at home? It made the whole thing all the more sexy and illicit, as if they shouldn't be there together. As if they were planning on doing all sorts of things that they probably shouldn't do. He found it hard not to imagine how it would be like, their naked skin on the cold hotel sheets...

"Hey." Someone barked from behind him. "Move."

Ma-kun came to, blinked, and smiled sheepishly, "Sorry." He flashed the guy behind him a peace sign, and took the two steps forwards.

Hotel sheets. He shook his head hard and mentally swore at Tachi. If Tachi were a woman, he'd have accused him of being a tease years ago.

He was equally preoccupied when he finally reached the cashier, and had to hastily make up his mind about what food to get. He eventually ordered two of the same thing and two sodas. If Tachi didn't like burgers he'd have to suffer. Tachi probably liked burgers. Who didn't like burgers?

"Sir?"

"Un?" His eyes opened up wide.

".... payment, please?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, "Oh! Yeah. Right." And then he tried to shake his head clear.

He was walking down the street now, carrying the food in one hand and the sodas in the other. He was looking down at the sidewalk as he walked. If he saw a pebble of any size, he'd kick at it with his toe. 

Morality, is a selective thing at best.

He stopped walking down the sidewalk, unmindful of those around him.

Morality, is a selective thing at best. Morality yields to whatever the construct of the moment happens to be.

And who would he be fooling if he ever said that ASK was motivated by morality?

The air was cool, the light was late afternoon. He'd been walking back and forth from McDonalds to the hotel now for just under an hour. The food in the sack had probably solidified into waxy forms of its past grandeur by now. The light breeze was moving the flaps of his thin jacket open, exposing his white shirt underneath. Ma-kun was just looking down.

Morality, is a selective thing at best.

Ma-kun made just one more stop before he walked the rest of the way to the hotel.

  
  
  
  


Tachi was lightly sleeping on the made bed. He kept waking up every time there was any noise outside the room. Anyone walking past, any particularly noisy car, some far off conversation, all that had the power to lift him from his light rest.

And it was rest, and he needed it.

When Ma-kun did finally arrive, Tachi had just passed from light sleep into deep sleep, and had been still inside that for less than eight minutes. Ma-kun kicked at the door loudly to get his attention. Through the metal door he could hear Ma-kun shouting, "Yo! Ta-chan! Open the door before I make a scene!"

So therefore, Tachi's first thought upon waking was, '_Shit.' And he swung his legs off the bed and rushed to the door before Ma-kun lived up to his word. He opened the door quickly and Ma-kun nearly kicked him in the shins._

"Sorry," But Ma-kun was smiling at him.

"Why? That you missed?"

"Naturally." And he held up the McDonald's bag and the little carton of sodas, "The burgers are cold and the sodas are warm."

"Just the way I like it." And Tachi stepped aside and let Ma-kun in.

Ma-kun took a few broad steps in, and dropped the bag and set the drinks on the bed. "You start." And then he walked to the bathroom. "Nice hotel. How much you pay for it?"

"Dunno. I just signed the slip." And Tachi began to unroll the paper sack with a crinkling noise. Ma-kun paused at the doorway to the bathroom, his hand on the frame. For a moment, he thought about turning around and taking the bag away from Tachi. Then he changed his mind and went in.

Tachi pulled out the fries first, and then sat on the bed, stuck one half-cold fry between his teeth and bit. There wasn't enough salt, and it tasted like shit cold (cold shit?), but he liked it, so he ate it quickly, intending to eat whatever else was in the bag last. As he was eating the fries, he leaned over the bag to see what was inside, and then paused and looked a little closer. Inside the paper McDonald's sack, was a small blue plastic sack. He tilted his head to one side, reached in the bag, and nudged at it. Whatever was inside was in a box.

"Huh." Tachi said aloud, thought for a moment about respecting Ma-kun's privacy, and then changed his mind. He pushed three more fries into his mouth, started to chew, and then pulled the small blue bag out of the paper one. He stripped away the thin blue plastic, and then paused and blinked.

A box of lubricant, anal lubricant.

Tachi felt his face instantly grow hot and he shoved the box back into the blue sack, at the same time the bathroom door opened and Ma-kun stepped out. Tachi flung his gaze up at Ma-kun, and wasn't sure if he was supposed to fly into an angry rage or if he was supposed to ignore it.

He stood up off the bed.

He realized he was still holding the blue bag in his hand. He held out the bag, looked at Ma-kun, and was unsure of what to say. "This..."

"Yeah."

"This... isn't ..."

"Isn't what?" Ma-kun walked closer to him, stopped too close. He was smiling, but not in a really dominating way, it was confident, sexy, amused, and unthreatening.

Tachi didn't want to acknowledge it, but he couldn't break eye contact. "Why'd you buy this?"

Ma-kun reached out and touched Tachi's hands, Tachi tried for a moment to draw away, but at the same time Ma-kun closed his grip on him and wouldn't let him go. He felt Ma-kun run one finger over the plane of skin between his thumb and forefinger in a caress. Ma-kun's eyes were glinting with amusement, "Why do you think?"

He couldn't quite breathe, and he knew he had to pull away, he had to pull away right now, if he wanted things to stay calm in the room. He felt small; Ma-kun was looming over him now, staring down at him, examining him. He was so close to Tachi, Tachi could see the black stripes that cut into the blue of his eye, the movement of his iris. He couldn't look away from Ma-kun, he was a little trapped, he couldn't remember to breathe, he hated being looked at like this.

Ma-kun wrapped his other hand around Tachi's, and then gently manipulated Tachi's hand, made Tachi open up the plastic bag, made Tachi let go of the bag. The bag made a soft rustling sound as it was pried from his fingers, floated gently to the ground. Now all Tachi was holding in his hand was a box. And all Tachi could do was look at Ma-kun's face. While manipulating his hand, Ma-kun had let his eyes drift down to their fingers, and the look on his face was... ... a little beyond him.

He wasn't sure how to interpret all this. He wasn't sure if he was capable of it. Ma-kun was smiling down at their joined hands, as if between the two of them they were holding a bird.

"Tachi?" Ma-kun's fingers stroked at Tachi's knuckles.

Tachi's grip on the box was a little tight.

"What?" His voice sounded just a little airy, he was a little surprised he'd been able to answer at all.

And Ma-kun looked up at him, made eye contact, "We don't have to do anything at all." And he took the final step closer to Tachi, released his right hand and placed it at Tachi's waist. "But I'd like to."

The place where Ma-kun had touched his hand felt cool now that nothing was there to warm it. Tachi wasn't sure what to think. But his first, internal reaction was panic. He concentrated on his breathing, kept track of the pace, his mind suddenly hyper aware of all his outward expressions. "Why?"

Ma-kun laughed a little, squeezed at him, "What do you mean, 'why'?" And then Ma-kun pressed close to him.

Tachi should pull away. Should, he really should. Any normal man would have by now. Any real man.

"I ..." Tachi's eyes drifted down to where their hands were touching, focused on the writing on the box. The whole thing felt surreal, beyond his control, inevitable. He read the brand name over and over again, his brain looping over and over again all the expectations that came with it. "..I don't... know...." And he blinked at the box, felt his stomach full of acid, felt his heart race, carefully controlled his breathing.

His head was turned as he looked at the box, and Ma-kun leaned into his neck and started to make playful little bites there. Between fluttering bites that sent a thrill down Tachi's spine, Ma-kun laughed and said against him, "Don't know what?"

Tachi took a deep breath, "No. I, don't think so." And he tried to shrug Ma-kun off. "No. No, no no no. I'm not like that." And he completely pushed Ma-kun away.

"Bullshit." Ma-kun stated, and then put his arms around Tachi and drew him close. "Complete and utter bullshit." And then he started to press kisses all over Tachi's face, Tachi could feel Ma-kun's smile against his skin. "It's bullshit and you know it."

Tachi held his breath and closed his eyes.

Ma-kun lifted his head and whispered against Tachi's ear, "If you're so straight, then stop me."

"I..." His eyebrows knit, and his stomach got tighter. "I'm _trying_."

"Hey," Ma-kun drew away from him, stroked his face. "Hey, relax." And Ma-kun kissed him. "We haven't done anything we haven't done before, yet." And he smiled. "Doesn't this feel good?"

Tachi was frowning, his nausea a little overwhelming, the greasy fries made him feel worse instead of better. He didn't want this to feel good. "Yeah." He sounded young when he said that.

Ma-kun was reassuring, "That's all this is, Tachi. We're just making each other feel good." And Ma-kun started to pull him towards the bed, walking backwards towards it. "That's aaall this is." He was playful. "Come on," Ma-kun pulled him along, "Come here." Ma-kun pulled him close again and kissed his neck,  "See? That's not so bad."

Tachi closed his eyes with reluctance. It did feel good. He couldn't deny that. Ma-kun's hands were erotic and gentle and all over the place.

"See?" Ma-kun whispered, nuzzled him, "We don't even have to use the big bad lube." And he smiled, "This is enough. Really." And Ma-kun coaxed the box out of his hand, and it fell off the bed. Tachi heard it fall, make a solid sound when it hit.

Tachi could feel each individual metal coil of the bed against his back. Ma-kun was in charge of the touching, in charge of the kissing. Ma-kun was in charge of everything that happened, all Tachi did was lay there -- senses overloaded, his brain empty and his stomach tied in complicated knots. All Tachi had to do was receive, be there, and accept.

Ma-kun was clearly enjoying himself. Whenever Ma-kun's lips touched Tachi's skin, Tachi could feel the curve of a smile formed where the lips rested. Ma-kun was the sort that smiled when he made love, the sort that laughed and made no effort to appear solemn. For him, there was nothing ceremonial about it

For Tachi, it was usually just about getting off. He was all about getting it over with and leaving, for the most part.

He wasn't sure how to take this sort of... languishing sensuality.

And he couldn't really bring himself to enjoy it. His brain kept twirling around one thought, his stomach a clenched fist of acid. He wasn't gay, he wasn't supposed to enjoy this, he wasn't supposed to just lay there while this was being done to him. He wasn't into men, real men don't do this.

He shouldn't enjoy this. He wasn't enjoying this. He was too caught up inside the thought loop, so every warm and comfortable touch Ma-kun was laying on him just made him feel sick.

But he closed his eyes, and held his breath, and let it happen. He supposed some things he wasn't really meant to enjoy.

And now Ma-kun slid his hands up Tachi's button up shirt, pinched at Tachi's nipple and bit and sucked at Tachi's neck. He let out a heavy breath against Tachi's ear, "God," and he laughed, "I didn't really ever think we'd do this."

"We have." His voice was lower, a little breathless, but not as much.

"Not like this." Ma-kun said, kissed him, "Not you, and me." And he laughed again, "None of your usual fucking resentment, none of your usual denials and closeted bullshit. Just you and me."

"'Usual'?" Tachi said sharply, "What do you mean 'usual'?" He pressed at Ma-kun's shoulders, latching onto anything that could ruin the moment. "We've only done this once before."

Ma-kun's expression didn't change, "Well, usual enough." And he kissed Tachi on the lips. Then Ma-kun drew away and started to unbutton Tachi's shirt, as quickly as he could, not bothering to be coy about it. He peeled his own shirt off right over his head. He flung his shirt off to one side, and then ran his hands over Tachi's bare chest, stuck his fingers underneath the cloth that still covered Tachi's shoulders. 

Tachi was focusing primarily on not being sick.

And Ma-kun lowered himself on top of Tachi, and Tachi felt the coils of the bed press against him once again. Ma-kun leaned forwards and whispered into his ear, "Relax already." Ma-kun started to move his hips in a long rocking motion. "Just relax, Tachi. Doesn't this feel good?"

Ma-kun didn't sound mean or demanding at all. Tachi still didn't feel able to escape or run away. "I guess."

A smile against his ear, "You guess." He teased. And Ma-kun pressed kisses to Tachi's neck, nudged away the fabric and pressed kisses there, too. Tachi could still feel the smile on Ma-kun's lips. Ma-kun wasn't demanding anything, Ma-kun wasn't forcing him to do anything, Ma-kun was just kissing at him, touching him. Ma-kun was rubbing his hands over the exposed skin, sliding his hands under the band of Tachi's pants, so that his fingers tickled for a moment at the very small of Tachi's back.

Tachi frowned and tolerated it.

Ma-kun sighed against him. There was a smile against his belly, now, the moist texture of a tongue tracing a random pattern there. There was a smile at his chest, and teeth that ground a nipple. There was a smile at his throat, and his ear. A smile that traced a dangerous route back down to his fly.

"I want to kiss your lower back."

"Why?"

"So graceful there." A soft pause to smile against his navel, "Don't worry, I'll play nice." 

So a smile traced a little circle at his lower back, and as promised followed his spine up to his hairline. Each individual coil of the mattress now, pressing against his front. He felt dizzy, uncertain. The sickness in his stomach was starting to ebb away, and that made him feel oddly disappointed in himself.

So he panicked. For a moment, he gasped as if he'd been holding his breath for too long -- and he probably had -- and shoved Ma-kun away. For a moment, he couldn't be passive and just lay there. For a moment, he couldn't stop thinking, "But I'm not into men."

But Ma-kun reacted exactly as he should, and shushed him, and touched his cheek, and smiled. And then Ma-kun kissed him, lightly, applying hardly any pressure to the kiss at all, letting his lips drift in a circle. "It's okay, Tachi." Ma-kun soothed. "We're not doing anything bad." And kissed him again, "This isn't bad, Tachi. This isn't bad."

The late afternoon light was against Tachi's face, from a part in the curtain. He could hear the distant sound of traffic. He couldn't see any of it, though, his eyes were closed. He wasn't sure what to think or feel, his stomach was an ever-unwinding noose of acid, his brain was empty. And everywhere Ma-kun laid down a smile, there was a warm tingling feeling.

He felt as if he had just realized he knew how to breathe underwater, a sort of instinctive panic every time he inhaled would take over, and then he'd realize he could still breathe, but he could feel the solidness of it and his mind would forever tell him it was unnatural.

"Ma-kun?" Tachi was breathless.

"Mm?" And Ma-kun's smile traced against his face again.

Tachi forgot what he was going to say.

Ma-kun got his pants off with little effort. Tachi felt uncomfortable, but couldn't quite deny that being touched was unpleasant. He kept his eyes closed as much as possible. He'd frown and bat away Ma-kun's hands whenever Ma-kun reached for his crotch.

It wasn't so bad. It all actually felt good. Erotic. Tachi bit his lower lip and nearly flung an arm around Ma-kun, his first real movement towards Ma-kun since they started to make out. And they kissed again. And Tachi felt just a little ill, but it wasn't so bad. It could be worse.

"Tachi?" There was a catch in his voice now that hinted he just realized something.

"What?" He asked, he didn't sound annoyed at the interruption.

"Tachi, why aren't you hard?"

Tachi just lay on his back. "I don't know." He felt sick, and tired, and sort of disappointed.

"Aren't you enjoying this?"

Tachi was looking at the ceiling, the light from outside was hitting his right eye. "I guess."

"You guess?" Ma-kun sat up.

He felt cold. "Yeah."

"What the hell do you mean 'yeah'?" Ma-kun's voice was angry, "you are or you aren't."

"I guess I am." He really was.

"Tachi, god damn it, I won't be your god damn penitence. You won't fucking use me to atone for your sins."

He grit his teeth, and sat bolt upright in bed. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What the fuck do you think I'm talking about?"

"Oh, well, fuck you anyways." And he was almost relieved for the excuse to get out of bed. The light from outside placed a clean, gold stripe through the center of his skin. "I told you 'no' to begin with." And he walked towards the window, took one look outside at the buildings and the mass of traffic outside, he was pissed off. He jerked the curtains shut, and they swayed gracefully back and forth, strobe-ing dim afternoon sunlight into the room. Tachi reached forwards almost compulsively to stop them, slightly paranoid that the outside world could see him. He didn't quite let go of the curtains for a moment, his fists white on the cheap fabric, and when he did release them, the curtains wound up exactly as they were before he touched them.

"Well, god damn it, you've always lead me on."

"I did no such fucking thing!" He swiveled around to face Ma-kun, at last in familiar territory. "Why the fuck would I lead you on? I'm not a fucking faggot."

"What?"

"You heard me you fucking homo, why the hell would I lead you on? I'm not gay!" And his entire body was clenched in barely restrained fury. Tachi was standing before the window, angry and naked and inventing things to be angry about.

"Oh, fuck you. Let me tell you something, Tachi, there are two things that you need -- and they both involve your ass."

Tachi made a sound that was a lot like a roar of frustration, he took a few steps towards the bed, where Ma-kun was sitting, and stopped. He had no idea what to do with this rage. Normally, when he was this pissed off he'd get into a fight, hit someone, _injure_ someone. But he couldn't hit Ma-kun. He never had. And so his anger nearly evaporated as he was caught flatfooted. It clenched itself into a tighter knot, coiled around his insides like a great snake. He smashed the lamp ineffectually, and melted to the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest.

And the room became perfectly silent.

And the light that touched his face was the only warmth he felt, until Ma-kun touched his shoulder.

"Tachi," And Ma-kun's arms wrapped completely around Tachi's shoulders from the bed, "Tachi... you need to pull it together."

Tachi was staring blankly forwards.

He thought he saw a glint, he dismissed it.

"Tachi, I refuse to let you use me --"

"I'm not." Tachi said quietly, felt defeated and tired. "I can't."

The arms tightened around his shoulders, the mattress pressed against his back. "Yeah, you are."

Tachi shook his head 'no', and sighed. His stomach was a knot of acid, his head was empty.

"You can't fuck me and expect to be in the band again, you can't fuck me and expect everything to be alright with Shindou."

He felt dizzy.

"I don't care about that." Tachi said, meant it.

There was a significant pause in the conversation. Ma-kun hugged his shoulders. The air was cold, and the sunlight against his skin was a declining warmth. The air was cold, and Ma-kun's body heat pressed against his shoulders and neck, and didn't fade away.

"Tachi," Ma-kun's voice was less steeled.

"What?" Tachi's voice had dropped pretense.

"Are you attracted to me?"

Tachi laughed and covered his face with one hand.

"No, answer me." And the arms shook a bit. "Are you using me to get into the band? Are you using me to feel better about Shindou?" Another hurtful pause, "Or..."

"Or I'm attracted to you." Tachi shook his head, but didn't mean 'no'. He laughed, but not because he found anything amusing. He pursed his lips, and smiled weakly, and sighed deeply. "I guess. Whatever. I don't care, anymore."

"No," Ma-kun pressed, "I've got to hear you say it."

"Why? You'll think I'm lying no matter what I say."

"Say it."

Tachi dropped his head a bit, and Ma-kun's arms didn't let go, but didn't cling as hard. Tachi sighed, and gently resigned himself to the situation. It was inevitable, it was beyond him, and he felt guilty and he felt sick, and he wondered why he bothered lying in the first place. His throat was so tight, when he started the sentence, "I'm" got lost and all that came out was, "...tracted to you..." And he bit his lower lip, swallowed around the tight lump in his throat.

Ma-kun kissed his throat, laughed once, and Tachi felt Ma-kun lick his lips once before he started to talk. His voice was tight as well, "So, I guess you weren't faking it then, eh?"

Tachi laughed, covered his mouth, and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry." And he laughed again, his mouth in a full smile, "I really..." He bit his lower lip, "I really..." He sighed, "I really just wanted," His eyebrows pinched, "I wanted to be normal."

Ma-kun stroked a little circle on Tachi's chest. "I don't see what's so awful about this," Ma-kun stated, hugged him a bit.

Tachi closed his eyes and let out a long shiver of a sigh. The light from outside now was dull grey, and Tachi could see a glint far away, the window of a building across the street. Tachi swallowed again, the lump in his throat so tight he was having trouble breathing.

"Why don't you join me in bed?" Ma-kun asked gently. "We don't have to do anything. Really." And this time there wasn't anything flirtatious in his voice. Tachi nodded and felt heavy all over. When he stood up, he felt tired, when he lay down in bed, he felt awkward. Ma-kun smiled, and kissed him on the mouth.

There was nothing carnivorous about it, it was almost comforting.

"Ma-kun?" He heard himself whisper. The hotel room had become sepia in the early evening.

"Hn?"

He felt cowardly, "If you like, we could -"

"If 'we' like, we could."

"Yeah, I guess." He felt nervous.

"Slow," Ma-kun agreed. "Just for fun." And Ma-kun touched his face. "Everything we do for the rest of the night is for fun, okay?"

Tachi nodded, and then tried to say the word, "Fun."

"Yeah," Ma-kun kissed him, "fun."

"That means everything we do is consensual." Ma-kun stated, and then realized what he'd said.

Tachi nearly closed up again, a wad of guilt lodging inside of him. "Yeah." Tachi said, but believed he deserved less.

"Sorry."

"Why should you be?"

"Stop it. Just...kiss, okay?"

And so they did. Tachi responded almost clumsily to the kisses, unsure of what his part was in them. Was he supposed to be submissive? Play the lead? And that's how the rest of their touching went.

Ma-kun advancing, Tachi reacting with uncertainty. Tension began to unravel from his body like a long cord, his emotions finally a blank, and his mind was full.

He didn't deserve to enjoy this. Not anymore.

But Ma-kun was so even, and the whole thing was an awkward give and take. His heart was beating hard, and his lungs were breathing hard, and his mind was yammering at him... that arching his back was wrong, that parting his lips was wrong. Echoes inside his head, wrong wrong wrong. Wrong gender, wrong sensation, wrong soul. He was just, wrong.

And it was him, he, Tachi, that was wrong. All wrong.

When that smile returned to his skin, when that smile traced a new pattern on him, his body reacted one way and his brain reacted another. When Ma-kun's hands gripped his cock hard and squeezed, when Ma-kun's teeth dragged delicately against his cheek, when their breath came in complimenting rhythms... Tachi's mind would interject at random the things he'd known forever.

This is wrong.  
This shouldn't feel good.  
He didn't deserve this.

And when Ma-kun smiled at him, and touched his face, and when things got heavy enough for Ma-kun to cautiously reach over and pick up the box of lube, Tachi's head would intermittently turn on and off.

This is wrong.  
This shouldn't feel good.  
He didn't deserve this.

Men don't have sex with men. Tachi, didn't deserve to feel good anymore. Everything was wrong. Wrong, wrong.

Fingers were slicking up his insides, now, making him uncomfortable. Small suction at his neck, and the friction of another body against his own. He was breathless, he was excited, he was submissive. 

He made a sound that he'd only heard once before, and panicked just a little bit.

"Sssh," Ma-kun soothed, and they kissed again.

And Tachi shook all over, confused by how exciting it was all getting, confused by the lack of breasts on Ma-kun, confused at the extreme elevation of his own excitement.

At one point, Ma-kun broke away to rush at Tachi's backpack, pull out the box of condoms, rush back, land on top of him and cover him with slightly desperate kisses. The box fell to the floor twice before they got around to opening it.
    
    
    **click**
    "Saah." A bass voice. "I think he just wants this for gay porn."
    

He swung back and forth between desire and shame. His brain still wanted to examine things, still wanted to say he was worth this and not worth that. His body still reacted however it wanted to. It was only when they actually started to have sex that Tachi's mind stopped playing tricks on him.
    
    
    **click** The subtle click of a good camera. *click* An annoyed click of the tongue. *click*
    **click** an indignant huff. *click** *click*
    "I am surrounded by queers."
    

He groaned, a great hollow ache started to take over, a rolling tingling sensation. He bit his lower lip and arched his back, he dug his fingers into Ma-kun's shoulders, he made a sobbing noise. He forced his eyes to squint open, he saw Ma-kun's face. He grit his teeth and panted, he tried to hold himself back just a little more. The sheets were over smooth against his skin, all the blankets had hit the floor ages ago. His body was burning, tingling, shivering, sweating, all at once. He was seconds away from climax, his body was seconds away from release. And then he came, and his hips jerked with it. The noise from his throat was long.

  
  
  
  
  


Seguchi Touma was flipping through a rather small folio of pictures. His face, uncharacteristically, was set with a minor frown. "Did you have to take quite so many?" And he flipped another photo to one side, turned another one over and looked at it -- two people on a bed viewed through hotel curtains. 

"Ah, but I only did what you asked me to." And he nodded once.

"Sometimes I fear you have a great talent for this." Touma took one photo out and looked at it. Touma wanted to keep this picture, he wanted it set in black and white, he wanted it framed on his desk. "He almost seems to be crying in this photo."

"Well, I'd imagine having anything stuck up your --"

"No, this is before it." And Touma placed the photo lightly down on his desk, pented his hands just so, and then tilted his head to one side in careful regard of the photo. "Yes. I'd say that in this photo, he's feeling quite a bit of genuine regret." A soft pause, as Touma's general love of theatrics took over, "Good." And Touma picked up the photo, and slid it carefully back into the folio. "I think, he'll experience quite a bit more. And soon."

* * *

_contrary-perfection.net :: the collected works of eidolon tree_


	6. The Morning After

**Morning After**

The phone rang. It was one in the afternoon, and the phone in the hotel room was ringing. Tachi was not a morning person, no matter what time of the day it was, he barely awoke from his sleep to answer the phone, and mostly because he was closer.

"What?"

He heard a soft clicking noise on the phone, as if the receiver on the other end was just picked up.

"Hello?" He asked again, confused now that he realized he was still in the hotel, and no one knew that he was there.

"Aizawa-san." A gentle voice said over the phone.

And Tachi sat up in bed, his eyes opened all the way. There was only one voice that could strike fear in him so quickly with so few words. His first reaction was to want to say, 'yes', but he couldn't form the word.

"Do you believe in karma, Aizawa-san?"

Tachi didn't answer.

"Do you?" 

He tried to say, 'no', but found he was too afraid to speak.

"I don't, Aizawa-san," And the voice sounded quite satisfied, "-- but I do believe in justice."

And then the phone went dead, and Tachi went still. Tachi's brain swooped for a moment, unbalanced under a new load.

The floor was covered in symbolism. A broken, blue lamp lay prone, with one great gash revealing hollow insides, the ceramic sharply white at the breaks. Two used condoms lay flaccid next to two open boxes. Their clothes were in a pile next to the sheets. A spilled soda on the floor, the carpet was darker in the spill radius. Fast food bags lay on the other side of the room, food cold and uneaten. Something broken, something used, something ignored.

The air was still, and cool. Where the afternoon sun hit, there was nothing but uncomfortable heat, as it stretched across the half-lit room from the partially open curtain.

Tachi wasn't sure what to think. Ma-kun was asleep next to him, he looked utterly content with his messy hair and partially parted lips. He was a quiet sleeper. Tachi bet he rested well at night, every night. Nary a ghost to haunt him. Some of the sunlight struck and made golden part of Ma-kun's upper thigh.

Tachi swung his legs off the bed and set them down on the dense, cheap carpet. His body ached, his inner thighs ached, his neck ached, his ass ached. He walked across the room with what dignity he could muster while naked, picked up his pants, and then went to the bathroom. He shut the door, and locked it, braced his back against it, and sighed.

He hated mornings, no matter what time of day it happened to be.

His brain was wrapped in gauze. He could feel it, something inside of him that was decidedly _separate_ from the whole. He could feel it sort of thud against his conscious self, try and gather his attention. He didn't want to think quite yet.

He started the hot water for the shower and dropped his pants into the corner. When it wasn't too hot, and it wasn't too cold, he climbed in and let the hot water beat against his tight shoulders. He just stood there and let the stream hit him, loosen him up a bit. He hated waking up nothing but knots. He usually woke up nothing but knots.

He let the heat slowly un-numb him. He wanted to fall asleep in there. He hadn't really been fully awake in weeks. 

He sighed heavily, and then touched his forehead to the tile on the wall. 

Maybe he did believe in karma.

Inside his head, he could see the little square hotel room, the mess on the floor and in the bed, he could see that one tiny window and the curtains that didn't seem to close. He imagined the light from the window, how it laid a gold bar down on the floor and up the wall, bisecting the room into two shadowy halves. He remembered kissing Ma-kun last night, how he wrapped one desperate arm around the back of Ma-kun's neck, and pressed his forearm there.

He was in the shower for about an hour. He let the hot water keep him warm, wash away some of the body aches he had from last night. His inner thighs ached from keeping his legs open for so long. His ass ached from the stretch. His jaw ached from clenching. His neck ached from sleep. He felt mildly hung over, though he knew logically that he hadn't had enough to drink from the night before to cause a hang over. He may have dozed off for a moment in the shower, allowed himself to feel safe and warm and comfortable for a bit.

When he got out, he was immediately icey cold. He grabbed a towel, and dried himself off briskly and then pulled on his pants, and opened the bathroom door.

Ma-kun's face popped into view, as he leaned into the bathroom and smiled at Tachi. "Yo," His voice implied he was in a good mood. "In here long enough?"

"No," Tachi contemplated shutting the door, but he pushed it open anyways. He thought of the curtains that always hung partly open in the main room of the hotel. He thought of the stream of light that hit him in the face. He thought about a glint striking his eye.

Tachi shook his head 'no' and wrapped his arms around his chest. He felt weak and tired all over. He was too fucking washed up, he was too fucking far gone to fight anymore.

"So…" Ma-kun offered awkwardly.

"Yeah. So." Tachi said, thinking about something completely different from Ma-kun.

Ma-kun laughed a laugh that seemed only moderately giddy, and he reached forwards impulsively and touched Tachi's shoulder. Tachi frowned, shrank away, but didn't pull away completely.

"Morning," Ma-kun offered, belatedly.

"Yeah, it is." Tachi shook his head a bit, and droplets flew about, a few hit Ma-kun in the face. Ma-kun started to laugh a bit, and then wiped away the droplets with one hand. Tachi wanted to apologize, but kept his mouth shut. He raked his fingers through his hair, and turned to face the mirror. He probably should pull Ma-kun into the bathroom, there weren't any windows in the bathroom.

Ma-kun was looking at him.

"So what now?" Tachi asked. He was referring to ASK.

"I don't know." Ma-kun answered, "I mean, I hadn't thought this far ahead." He laughed again, nervously, "I mean, not that I thought about…well, yeah I did. But not as much as I sound like I did. Just, you know." And he let out another half-laugh out of nervousness. "You know, last night doesn't have to mean anything." And then Tachi saw Ma-kun dip his chin down, and then saw his head jerk back up again quickly, "But, you know, it could mean _everything_ if you want. I mean, not that it has to. Gah, what I mean is, it doesn't have to mean anything, but it doesn't mean nothing, no…. fuck. Just, no pressure. About anything. Okay?"

Tachi leaned up against the counter for a moment and laughed. He shook his head 'no', and said, "The band."

Ma-kun blinked once and stood a little more upright. "Oh."

Tachi shook his head again, chagrinned. He turned to face Ma-kun. He felt, as if he were beyond being phased by anything and everything. "The band, Ma-kun. What's going to happen to it now?"

Ma-kun looked at him for a bit, and Tachi could see him trying to figure things out for a moment.

"We'll sign with NG, they'll assign us a new lead singer."

"And you'll become rich and famous rockstars while I get a fucking job for a change." Tachi nodded, his voice was edged with sarcasm. He wanted to sing, he knew something Ma-kun didn't know.

"Well…" Ma-kun looked at him for a long time, steadily, before he finally shrugged once and said, "We can't always predict the future."

"Yeah." Tachi nodded, turned back to the mirror. He kept his eyes on his own reflection now. He saw Ma-kun's hand grasp his shoulder and give it a bit of a squeeze. He didn't like it, Ma-kun squeezed too hard and he could feel the uncomfortable pressure at an awkward point in his muscles.

"And, so…" Ma-kun started.

Tachi should interrupt, right now. Tachi should pull Ma-kun into the bathroom, right now.

"What about you and I? What do you think about last night? I mean, not all of it… just you know, that whole last part. The part where we were naked." Ma-kun smiled a half smile at what he just said, realized that an attempt to sound smooth only sounded stupid, and looked down.

" I don't know." Tachi answered. "I guess the chances are pretty slim we can forget this ever happened and just….be the same, like usual, eh?"

"Yeah."

Tachi nodded, "figured."

"But, what did you think?"

Tachi shrugged. He was tempted to grab Ma-kun and pull him into the bathroom now, narrow as it was. He wanted to get Ma-kun away from the window and it's curtains that never seemed to meet. He was also a little afraid to reach out and touch Ma-kun. Ma-kun wasn't wearing a shirt. Ma-kun's upper torso was defined well, and he was narrow at the waist, and his skin was smooth. He didn't want to touch that torso, that waist, that chest.... not so close to that bright beam of light. Not by choice. Not again.

"I guess…. You know, we can play it by ear." And Ma-kun rested his chin on Tachi's shoulder. "You know, not get rid of each other, not really try and force the issue. Just kinda let it keep doing whatever it's doing. I guess."

Tachi frowned at the skin contact, rolled his shoulders a little uncomfortably, tried to shoo Ma-kun away. "What do you want it to do?"

"…I don't know. I just --" One short, sharp laugh, Ma-kun slipped an arm around Tachi's waist, pulled him close, "I just want to make sure that we don't do anything so fucking sudden that it ruins all of it all together. I don't want to stop knowing you either way. I guess. I don't know. I'm hungry, I haven't eaten in a day and a half, and I'm still tired."

Tachi nodded, and then shrugged his shoulders a little more aggressively, pushed Ma-kun away. He hated being touched all the time. Ma-kun tried to loop his arms around him again, and then Tachi just placed the palm of his hand on Ma-kun's chest and scowled at him. "God damn, Ma-kun. Let me breathe, would you?"

"Okay, okay." And Ma-kun drew away.

Tachi blinked, he didn't expect Ma-kun to do as he'd asked. He'd gotten used to Ma-kun pushing and pushing and pushing until he got what he wanted. It rather felt good to have an opinion again. Though, he almost, part ways, just a little bit, wished that Ma-kun had held on just a second longer.

At about that moment, Ma-kun awkwardly lunged at him and kissed him on the mouth, missed his lips and kissed part of Tachi's teeth, and his lower lip. He pulled away, entrenched in embarrassment again. Tachi was a little horrified, he thought of someone standing in room across the street, looking at him. He thought of cameras. Ma-kun laughed. "I'm sorry." He said, "It's just -- it's been so long since I've had sex with anyone I was really attracted to." And he leaned in close and looked down at Tachi, touched Tachi's face, "You know?"

"Yeah," Tachi said, and then hoped that what he'd just said wasn't going to be misunderstood. A lot of times, he just took sex wherever he could get it, if the girl was pretty that was good enough, but he was rarely ever actually attracted to them.

"It's win or lose right now." Ma-kun sighed, and Tachi felt his breath against his face. "I either win, or lose. I guess we both do."

Tachi almost said that either way, he lost. But he decided not to.

He's held off for too long. He's been standing at the entrance to the bathroom for too long, he's been touched by Ma-kun too often. The window was the most ominous thing in his life at that moment.

"Ma-kun..." Just say it, get it over with.

"Yeah?" And Ma-kun looked at him deeply.

Tachi flicked his eyes away, embarrassed to be looked at in that way.

Just say it. Fuck the window, fuck pulling Ma-kun in, fuck being seen. Fuck everything. There's no way this could get worse. Tachi took one and a half steps backwards into the hotel's tiny bathroom, and sat down on the floor.

"Tachi? Are you okay?"

Tachi shook his head 'no'. "This, is bad."

"Oh..." Ma-kun leaned against the bathroom's doorframe, misinterpreting Tachi again. "Well..." And Ma-kun almost looked hurt. "You know, it doesn't have to mean anything. Like I said." Ma-kun slid one of his feet forwards so it touched the other side of the door frame, effectively blocking Tachi in. He was looking down at his own foot. "I don't think it has to be all that bad... I mean... I don't think it _is_ all that bad..."

Tachi smiled down at his knees, put his hands at his forehead, and then pushed his fingers into his wet, tangled hair. "No, that's not what I mean."

"It isn't?"

"Nope." And he pursed his lips a moment, shook his head 'no' again, and kept his hands in place in his hair. "It's worse than that."

"Wait --"

"No."

"Tachi, what do you mea--"

"Seguchi called." He said it. He hadn't planned on saying it. He hadn't planned on saying it so simply, or abruptly.

Ma-kun was silent a moment, caught off guard. Tachi looked up at Ma-kun, waited for the reaction. 

Ma-kun's hair was messy from the bed, but he'd obviously finger combed it so it wasn't a bedraggled mess. His eyes were wide and the blue seemed to communicate his shock perfectly. Tachi watched with no emotion as Ma-kun's eyebrows knit and he bared his teeth a bit, "What the fuck?"

"Seguchi," Tachi carefully enunciated, "Called. The hotel phone. About an hour ago. While you were asleep."

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

Tachi shrugged, "It wouldn't have helped."

"Fuck you it wouldn't have helped! How the hell did he know you were here? Oh, fuck, nevermind, I know how. He had you followed. Fucking... bastard." And Ma-kun looked around the room for a second, wildly, as if there was something he could do about. "Oh, god." He said.

Tachi felt morbidly amused now. He laughed a little hysterically on the floor, hugged his knees to his chest and shook his head again, 'no'.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" Ma-kun sounded as if he were starting to lose control of some of his anger.

"Why the fuck shouldn't I laugh?" Tachi's hysteria kicked up another notch.

"Because we're fucking screwed, that's what!"

"You are." Tachi concluded. "I was. Already was. Still am. Continue to be."

"God damnit." Ma-kun looked desperate again, fell down onto the floor, on one knee, looming above Tachi because he was kneeling and Tachi was sitting. "God damnit Tachi. How could you fucking laugh? Laugh?"

"At a time like this." Tachi finished the thought, his amusement growing harder and heavier, he was a little panicked now. "Well, why the fuck not?" He answered again. He would reach out and grab Ma-kun's arms and pry them away if only he could release the fists he'd just formed. "What else could go wrong? Huh? My fucking dream, my fucking soul, fucking destroyed. I got _fucked_ last night by my best friend. Twice. And now some twisted cooperate shit has pictures of it. What else could go wrong. Why not laugh? Why the fuck not."

Ma-kun shook his head in disbelief. "Is that what you think of last night? Of right now? What I've been working all this god damn time to _make_ with you and the band and --"

Tachi laughed again, his teeth were grit and his knuckles were white. "That, is what happened. Call it like you see it."

"....Tach--" Ma-kun cut himself off, he hadn't seemed to have blinked a while, and was now dwelling inside some demented combination of anger, shock, fear, and disappointment. "You really do ruin everything, don't you?"

It was like a knife where hadn't realized he had flesh.

Tachi broke eye contact, shoved Ma-kun away, and got up as much as he could with Ma-kun little more than a foot or two away from him. "Fuck you."

He needed to get the hell out of there. Away from everything, to hell with the damn window and those ominous glints across the street. To hell with everything. He just needed out, and away. Before he broke something.

Again.

"Tachi, god damn it, get your ass back here."

"Go to hell, I am not your fucking servant." He grabbed his shirt off the floor, shoved it into his backpack, which was lying between the bed and the door. 

It occurred to him that this hotel room was the same shape as a cell.

"No, you fucking listen to me for a god damn change --"

Tachi barked out a sharp 'ha' at Ma-kun in mockery. "I'm sick of doing everything you say."

"Sit down and shut up, we need to fucking talk about all this crap that's going on."

"Talk, about what? Do you want to open the god damn curtains so they can get better pictures of it?" He pointed at the small window, "Maybe we should fuck again. Huh? Sound good? Just in case they missed anything." Tachi was shoving his socks and his underwear into his backpack now, shoving his feet into his glitter grey sneakers, darting his eyes back and forth across the room, examining the cell that took what was left after Bad Luck was done with them.

"Oh, Tachi the victim. Right. I've heard this shit before. Poor fucking Tachi. Everything bad happens to him, he's even a victim of his own orgasms."

Tachi snarled and threw open the hotel door, started with burning ambition towards his car.

"Poor, poor, poor Tachi. He's never done anything wrong a god damn day in his life. Look at him. An innocent among all this chaos. Tell me, do you blame yourself for anything at all?"

"Go to hell!" He shouted and kept walking. His sneakers were sticking to the bottoms of his bare feet. He could feel eyes staring at him as he tried to remember where he parked his car.

"Get back here, damn you!" Ma-kun shouted, trapped by the hotel door, wary of it locking behind him. "I'm not paying for this fucking hotel room!"

"You have the big NG contract, you fucking rock star! You pay for it!"

"No!"

"Bastard!" Tachi reached his car, and dropped his backpack, realized he didn't know where his keys were. "God damnit!" And he dropped down and unzipped his pack, started to rummage around for his keys.

"Listen up everyone! I fucked Aizawa Tachi up the ass and he fucking loved it! You hear that Tachi? Everyone fucking knows. NG is filled with god damn queers Tachi, and you're one of them."

Tachi couldn't find his keys, he was starting to feel horrified, he was starting to wander around the cell he'd left behind him mentally. Had he dropped it? Was it under the bed? By the door? Near the sheets?

"Tachi..." Ma-kun's voice was softer. "Tachi, no wait. God damn it, Tachi. You make me so mad sometimes." He wasn't filled with rage anymore. "Tachi, come back here. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?"

Tachi started to rip his things out of his backpack in a frenzy, tossing them onto the pavement. He needed to get the keys before Ma-kun decided that he could risk the hotel door swinging shut behind him and locking them out.

"Tachi, god, please. Don't go. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I'm fucking scared, I don't know what to do. Don't go."

It sounded so sincere.

Tachi found his keys at the bottom of his pack, hurriedly tossed the rest of his things back into it.

He almost felt weak from relief. It took a few attempts to unlock the door, his hands were shaking so bad.

"Tachi!" Ma-kun's voice was pleading now. "Please. I didn't mean any of it. Don't go." The voice was nearer, and Tachi got into the car and locked the doors just as Ma-kun drew near.

Tachi shook his head 'no' and didn't look directly at Ma-kun. He didn't want to see Ma-kun's face.

Ma-kun was right. Tachi could ruin anything, even when he wasn't trying.

He drove away.

* * *

_contrary-perfection.net_ :: the collected works of eidolon tree  



	7. Wait or Walk

**Wait or walk**   
  
  


It's only a road.  
You just have to walk it.

  
  
  
  


Tachi had just driven in any old direction, which was pretty much the same way he found the hotel, and pretty much the same way he found that girl, and pretty much the same way he lived each day. His only real drive and direction in life had been towards music. Anything else was extraneous. His life was trash, and had always been. He'd treated school like shit, he'd treated people like shit, he'd treated life like a distraction. _Music_ had been exactly what he'd been made of, from start to finish.

He'd always assumed that music was his only redeeming virtue, the reason why Ma-kun and Ken kept him around.

Tachi parked the car and let it idle. Tachi folded his arms on the steering wheel and thought, that he should sell his car. That it was too damn expensive to own. That he could live off the money from the car for a long time.

But he didn't want to.

He wanted to cling to his previous, temporary lifestyle. He wanted to pretend he was being taken care of by the most powerful record label in all of Tokyo. He wanted to pretend that his one saving grace had been enough to lead him to his only goal.

But his god damn brain just couldn't do it.

He kept thinking about the truth of the matter. He kept thinking about how it was impossible to succeed when Seguchi was out to get him. He kept thinking about how it was impossible to succeed when he wasn't even in a band anymore.

He wished he hadn't done it. He wished it every day he was alive after that point. For a million selfish reasons, and maybe one or two selfless whims.

He shut off the engine, grabbed his pack and his shirt, got out and heard his car door autolock. As he was walking down the street, he buttoned up his shirt. He buttoned them one button off, so his shirt was on him slightly sideways, but he didn't pay much attention to it.

He swung around and walked back to where his car was parked, fished out some spare change, and paid for his parking space. Then he sat down on the hood of the car, and fished out his socks. The bottoms of his shoes were sticking to his feet, and were annoying the hell out of him. The car sunk and bounced back up under him.

Then he leaned back onto the hood and arched, feeling his back fall back into alignment. He got back up, and started to trudge down the sidewalk.

People, were everywhere. As he pushed his way down the sidewalk, he looked into all their faces. None of them were looking at him, and he wasn't wearing shades and a hat. No one there recognized him, not one single person who looked back at him recognized him not one damn bit.

He couldn't walk anymore, so he sat on a bench, dropped his pack between his feet and put his elbows on his knees.

He wasn't sure what to do next, so he did what he does best, he acted on impulse.

  
  
  


The parking lot was empty, and dirty, and Ma-kun stood in the tiny lot, barefoot with no shirt for a few minutes before he got motivated enough to turn back to the hotel room. The door was slightly ajar, and he was able to push it open with just one hand.

He was pissed off at himself.

He shouldn't have waited so long to chase after Tachi -- but he'd been afraid of not being able to open the door again once it'd shut.

The hotel room was messy and empty. He felt a little dizzy, a little breathless in the wake of failure. He was a little amazed at how quickly things could go to shit. He got dressed and went to clean things up, before he just gave up and simply went to go check out of the hotel room. He started to think of a good lie to tell them, but ran out of energy quickly. He was glad he had a credit card. It took an hour to check out, due to the amount of damage they'd inflicted on the room. He left his contact information at that point, called a cab, and said he'd deal with it later.

What next?

Why is it always 'what next'?

When was it going to stop being 'what next'?

Every time he thought he knew something for fact, it would change and then he'd have to figure it all out all over again.

He had a meeting with Seguchi that afternoon, at a restaurant. He still needed to find Ken.

He still needed to find the words to tell Ken what had just happened.

Two hours left until he signed a piece of paper and changed his life again.

In the back of his head he started to muddle about with a song, with no lyrics. He was never very good at doing the whole thing alone. Ken was the virtuoso, Tachi was the prima dona, and Ma-kun... was just a guitar player, a generalist, knowing a little of everything.

He was only envious sometimes, but usually he was quite content -- unlike Tachi, who seemed to feel some haunting need to be the best at all times. He had to admit, like everyone else with an artistic bent, he found that mad streak of passion and ambition alluring. But he knew it was something he personally could never live with.

But he wanted to be near it.

He arrived home, after watching buildings and people streak by, after watching lights become one long line of red and white. He paid the taxi driver, climbed out, and then started up the stairs to his apartment. He wanted the movement, he didn't want to feel caged in by the elevator. When he finally reached the door to his own place, he unlocked it, went in, relocked it and then just sat on the couch.

What next?

An hour and a half left until he met Seguchi. He should get ready to go, he should call Ken, he should start making shit happen.

Ma-kun's cell phone rang and he answered it without looking at the caller ID, "Yeah?"

"... hi."

Ma-kun blinked and sat up straighter, "You, called me?"

"It happens."

He wasn't sure what to do or what to think, so the first word out of his mouth was, "Why?"

"...I, just wanted to hear your voice. I guess. I don't know. Fuck it, nevermind."

"No, don't hang up."

"I really have nothing to say."

"... me neither."

Ma-kun leaned forwards and looked at his cream colored carpet. He started to fidget a little bit, sighed heavily, and opened his mouth to talk.

"Sorry," Tachi beat him to it. "I guess that's about it. Sorry. I don't know... it's not much, I guess. But that's all I can think of."

"Heh.. I think, that's what I was about to say."

"Why?" And Tachi sounded bitter for a moment, "you didn't do anything wrong. I overreacted. I should have told you right up front. I ruined the band. I...I don't know. I did everything. You were right, I ruin everything. I think I actually try to sometimes."

"No... I don't really believe that. I think there are some things you try to ruin.... but... I don't think you do that to everything..." 

Without Tachi's presence in the room, he felt detached from the whole situation. As if he could tell the truth to the air, and it would have the same effect as not saying anything at all.

Tachi laughed on the phone again, and it sounded severe and mean. "Yeah." Tachi's voice was light.

And they both fell into silence, neither of them knowing what to do next.

"I..." Tachi's voice cracked for a moment. "I... "

"Yeah?"

Tachi sighed on the phone again, a labored sigh.

"Go ahead," Ma-kun pushed a little.

"I want to."

"Want to what?"

"Talk." And his voice was tight.

"We are talking."

"No, I mean..... no, nevermind."

"Go on, just say it."

"But, I can't. I can't just say it. I don't just say things. I don't know how." Another sigh cut into peices by the cell phone, "I want to. I really want to. I want to talk to you."

There was enough stress on the word 'you' to make Ma-kun's heart skip a beat.

And the phone went dead again.

"I don't want to sign that contract without you."

"I told you you could. My blessings. I'd be proud of you if you did. Finally, as greedy as me."

"Stop that."

"What? I'm just saying what you're thinking."

"Well, stop that. Say what _you're_ thinking instead."

"I'm a greedy fucking bastard."

"Tachi....." And he didn't know what to say, what he could offer to do. "You aren't giving Ken and I much choice. We sign. I can help you, we should be making enough money for us to help you..." And he knew immediately he'd offended Tachi's pride, offering to help him with money. But Tachi was quiet, too quiet, for a moment he thought Tachi'd hung up the phone. "Tachi?"

"What?" He sounded weak and distant.

"Where are you?"

"Bench. Somewhere. Don't know where. I guess my car is.... sssomewhere, over there."

Ma-kun didn't ask where 'over there' was, and they both fell quiet again.

"What do we do next?"

"I don't know."

And the question hung in the air, suspended from some imaginary ceiling by a thread.

"Tachi?"

"What?"

"Tachi..."

"Yeah?"

Ma-kun smiled a chagrined smile, leaned back on the sofa, and started saying, "Tachi... Tachi... Tachi..."

"What, what, what?"

Ma-kun grinned and closed his eyes, "Tachi."

"For fuck's sake, stop that."

"Taaa chi. Tak ii chi. Tare me."

"Stop that. It's really fucking annoying."

"Tachi." And he made it a strong statement this time, trying to get Tachi's attention.

"...yeah?"

"When you're not here, I'm more afraid I've fucked things up than ever."

"Live with it. I have to."

"Heh,"and he sighed, forced himself to relax, and continued, "We meet with Seguchi in about an hour... I should get ready to go."

"So go."

Ma-kun was actually a little afraid to hang up the phone. "I don't want to."

"Chicken shit."

"I guess I'll talk to you later."

"I guess."

"I'll call you right after the meeting."

"...maybe you shouldn't."

"Tachi..." He leaned forwards again, closed his eyes. "I want to call you. Hell, if I could afford it, I'd just keep you on the phone until you got there."

"Carry the phone on stage. Introduce the phone to your parents."

"Stop that."

"I'm going to hang up now."

"Tachi?"

But he had hung up.

And now Ma-kun was going to be late.

  
  
  
  
  


They met at a quiet restaurant. When they arrived, Ma-kun could see three people seated at the round table.

The manager of Bad Luck, the personal assistant to Seguchi and producer of Bad Luck, and Seguchi himself.

The manager of Bad Luck and Seguchi seemed to be engrossed in a conversation that Seguchi found amusing, and he'd at times laugh a restrained, and honest sounding laugh with his eyes closed, and he'd nod once or twice at the manager of Bad Luck. Seguchi's personal assistant just seemed to be attempting to remain calm.

When they started towards the table, they were noticed and all three immediately stopped doing what they were, and just watched them cross the restaurant floor -- except Seguchi's personal assistant, who continued to attempt to remain calm.

Ma-kun tried to keep his posture perfect. Ken just strolled along, dumb to the mechanics behind the stares.

They neared the table, and exchanged formal greetings. Seguchi did not introduce the manager of Bad Luck or his personal assistant to them, and they were told to have a seat.

"Two of you." The tall blonde with long hair said, and a little smile formed on his lips.

"Yeah," Ma-kun replied, "Were we supposed to bring--"

"No."

Ma-kun felt uneasy. There were two pairs steadfast determined eyes on him, and the third seemed to be nervous beyond comparison.

Seguchi finished the very last of his meal, picked up a cloth napkin and gently touched his lips with the corner. Seguchi turned his gaze to the manager of Bad Luck, without turning his face, and Ma-kun could see that there was a very small and amused smile there.

He felt uneasy.

Seguchi tapped his mouth again with the napkin, and then folded it discreetly in half and set it down underneath his plate's lip. Seguchi's posture was perfect and regal, he wasn't looking at either of them yet, just concerning himself with making his table setting proper -- as if he couldn't stand to have anything untidy in his presence. His smooth ministrations on the plate, utensils, and napkin were less fussy and more elegant, and deliberate. It took just a few seconds, and then Seguchi smoothly lifted his chin and regarded Ma-kun and Ken.

"So, shall we get down to business?"

Ma-kun nodded. He wasn't sure what was going to happen, he imagined it being as simple as signing a piece of paper and then leaving. But they way the three across the table were acting, that seemed to be a little on the delusional side.

"This should be brief." Seguchi stated. And then he reached for his attaché, and pulled out a little folder with some papers in it. He slid it across the table with a pleasant smile. "And then we can all go about our business. And you, can return to the NG family."

Seguchi's assistant seemed to almost have a spasm. Seguchi was emanating calm. Bad Luck's manager was staring at them with his hands folded in front of his face to cover his mouth. He was squinting at them.

Ma-kun placed his fingertips on the folder and gently pulled it closer.

"I don't like them." Bad Luck's manager said.

Seguchi didn't seem to respond, but kept looking at Ma-kun and Ken.

"Anyone that abandons their so called 'friend' so easily is hard to like." Bad Luck's manager continued. "But, I suppose it was _him_ to begin with, so that doesn't speak highly of you."

Ma-kun tried to ignore them. He opened the folder and looked down at the typed contracts, pages and pages bound together inside their own clear files. 

"Seguchi-san, se- se-se-se-se- se--" and then he suddenly bent over in half in a bow right at the table, so quickly that his forehead made a bonk sound as it struck the fine dining table, "with all due respect, Se- se- se-"

"Do you have sedatives you can give him when he does that?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Ma-kun handed Ken's copy of the contract information over to Ken, and then opened his own, already wondering if he was still carrying a pen. And then he started to notice that choice words seemed to have altered, that it didn't seem familiar at all.

He took a closer look.

"So, why do you keep him around?"

"My wife thinks that having a pet is good for my blood pressure."

"You have high blood pressure?"

"No, but I have had Sakano for a number of years now."

Bad Luck's manager laughed a loud, startling laugh at that, and it seemed almost like his entire face was transformed by it.

Ma-kun's eyebrow's knit together a little bit and he leaned down to the table and squinted at the text. He sat up abruptly and looked up at Seguchi, for the first time looking directly at him, directly in his eyes.

"Studio Musicians?" He asked, forgetting all formality.

Seguchi nodded gently, and smiled at him, hard edges starting to intrude on his overall softness. "What good are you to me without a frontman?" And Seguchi seemed like a statue, unmoving and direct, absolutely sure of his power, sure enough not to need to stress it. "Ah, don't get me wrong." And Seguchi closed his eyes and pented his hands in front of him, put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on the plain he'd made there. "The two of you are quite good. But neither of you are particularly saleable on your own. ASK was a true ensemble group, without any one of you three, ASK ceases to exist. It's refreshing, really, to see a band like that again. Most bands these days are usually composed of only one person, with a few ornaments on the side." 

"I," Bad Luck's manager interrupted, "-would suggest that you sign that contract."

Ma-kun looked at the two men across the table from him.

Off to his side, he heard Ken break in, his voice broken up by confusion, "I... don't understand. This isn't what you offered us -"

"No, it is not." Bad Luck's manager swung his gaze away from Ma-kun, aimed it at Ken, "But you'll take what you're given."

"I don't understand!" Seguchi's assistant suddenly broke out of his rut, "Why are we offering these people a contract when we're suing them for breaking a contract but we're not allowing Aizawa to sign with them and we both agreed that Aizawa was the lead of the band and he --"

"Ssssh," Seguchi interrupted him, and he immediately shut up. "You don't need to understand everything that happens, Sakano. Only that I am in control, of everything."

"Shindou is still gone!"

"Are you going to make me say 'sssh' twice?"

"No sir." And Sakano folded into himself, meekly.

Ma-kun stared at them in mild horror. Ken just sat there dumb to the whole situation. The whole thing was just odd, as if their careers were so easy to ruin that it didn't even alter the natural course of their conversation, "We can't sign this."

"You don't understand." Bad Luck's manager leaned over the table, half stood up so that he loomed over the two of them. His long blonde hair slipped forwards, his blue eyes fixed on them with the single intent to intimidate them, "You, must sign this contract."

Ma-kun shook his head in disbelief, "No."

Bad Luck's manager suddenly had a gun out and was brandishing it around, finally smacking the barrel up against his temple and shouting, "Oh, but you will!"

"Kei!" Seguchi's voice raising for the first time, "contain yourself."

"Aah, all you people." K said in disgust, "Your entire label is filled with nothing but little --"

"Speak. Softer."

"-wusses." K's voice was actually much much softer now. He hadn't put his gun away though, and Ma-kun was impressed by the very coldness of it against his temple.

Seguchi's assistant, Bad Luck's producer, had a fit. "Aaaah, why does he have to pull that thing out every time someone says anything but what he wants to hear?"

K stood completely upright, and answered the question himself, "Because he's used hearing exactly what he wants to hear, everywhere." And he sheathed the gun, and nodded down at Ma-kun, squinting again, he swooped down in what seemed to be yet another abrupt decision, and stared Ma-kun right in the eye.

"How's your love life?"

"... it's... "

"Pick up any good ass lately?" K nodded knowingly at him, "Any _familiar_ ass? What about _photogenic_ ass? Any of that swinging around your bedroom lately?"

Ma-kun couldn't look away from Bad Luck's manager, his frenetic energy the most alarming thing in the room.

"I..." Ken carefully said, "- don't, get it."

"FFFfft." K started to laugh immediately. "What, no locker room talk? You haven't told anyone yet, have you? Keeping it a secret? I bet there are many people who would be interested in these pictures. I bet there are people who want to know all about you. I bet Yuki Eiri would love to see you taken down a notch. I bet my Shindou would, too."

Sakano whispered, "My Shindou, too." And then immediately stepped out of the conversation, mentally.

"Pictures?" Ken asked, "..... not the ..... ones of...."

"No." Ma-kun said, "Not of that." And he couldn't break eye contact with K. "Tachi and me."

"..... soooo..." Ken started, and then paused. "Oh."

"Yup." And K abruptly stood straight up at the table again, his face formed into a happy-go-lucky expression that seemed almost overly boisterous and nearly completely out of place, "Two thirds of your band are raving homos, kid." His voice was overly loud, and people at other tables started to stare at them.

"Uh..." Ma-kun felt ridiculous, "We're bi -"

"Oh, fence sitters." K labeled them.

Sakano looked quite a bit like a deer in headlights, staring in perfect horror at the scene in front of him.

Seguchi was just still and mildly amused, only pleased because everything that was happening before him was bad for ASK. "Even so," Seguchi interjected, "I would like you to sign that contract shortly. I do have a flight to catch. You are not the most important thing I have to do, today."

Ma-kun finally forced himself to look down at the contract sitting on the table. Sakano's ice water was sweating little puddles onto the lacquer wood, Seguchi's tea was mostly gone, and K seemed to be drinking something that was whiskey....or some other dark liqour in a rocks glass. Seguchi was the only one with food at the whole table.

Studio Musicians. Being a studio musician meant that they'd be backup for some other band, and they might, maybe, get some small line of credit on the inside of the record sleeve. Being a studio musician meant that they'd never have creative control over the songs. Being a studio musician meant that they would not make good money.

Ma-kun couldn't sign this, but when he looked up, there were three pairs of eyes just staring at him, waiting for an excuse to ruin him.

Or maybe it was just two pairs, since Sakano appeared to be in a trance-like state.

  
  
  
  


Tachi came to the conclusion, that Ma-kun was safe. That had to be the reason why all this was happening to him, why he'd let himself fall like that. He'd forgotten that no one was safe, that no one mattered. Some secret romantic (or desperate) part of him had suddenly declared that safe people existed, that someone that mattered was right there in front of him.

Not 'romantic' in the sense that he wanted a fairy tale wedding with untold riches and good fortune for the rest of his natural life.

'Romantic' in the sense that the world wasn't out to get him.

That had to be why.

Ma-kun had seemed so very safe. He was a friend that hadn't gone away, no matter what shit he pulled. He was a friend that told him the truth unflinchingly. If someone asked him if he believed in God or Love, Tachi would say, 'no', but he would always believe in the Devil and Friendship. Those two things, at least, had left irrefutable proof all over his life.

Evil, inside himself. Friendship, with Ma-kun and Ken.

He wished _someone_ on the street would recognize him.

He stretched his legs out in front of himself and slouched backwards on the bench, nearly tripping someone as they were walking past. It wasn't a woman, so Tachi didn't pay much attention to them.

He'd fucked up their band, that's why he kept thinking about Shindou.

He'd fucked up his life, that's why he kept thinking about Shindou.

These people on the streets didn't recognize him, and that was why he was thinking about Shindou.

He hated this. It was as if his brain didn't work right unless it was _fixated_ on something. Music, Money, Fame, Shindou. It was like this never-ending cycle that didn't leave room for video games and dance clubs, work or women.

He probably shouldn't have called Ma-kun, but it was all impulse. He rarely thought any of his actions through before he acted on them.

He was thinking of Shindou because someone was blowing a pink bubble of chewing gum across the street.

He was starting to sound like a bad liar.

"Heh," Tachi stated his laughter as though it was an expected reply. He was still holding the cell phone in his hand, he dropped it into his backpack, zipped it shut. Inside the pack, his cell phone battery popped off.

Tachi ambled down the street, his posture less than perfect. His pants were rumpled up, his shirt still sideways.

It was a day, no matter how it started. It didn't matter that on the previous night, he'd had sex with what he supposed should qualify as his best friend. It didn't matter that in the morning, he'd argued with what he supposed should qualify as his best friend. It didn't matter that he'd lost a record deal, and that he didn't have enough money for rent next month. As far as the world was concerned, it was a day like any other.

So he stopped at a restaurant, and ate.

The waitress met him at the door, and showed him to his table. After she left, he pulled out his wallet and started to count what he had there. He could afford a moderate meal for two days, or one good meal for one day. Tachi ordered one good meal and waited for his food.

Life goes on whether or not you want it to, and even in the throes of misery you have to stop to eat.

And Tachi wasn't miserable, he was just hungry, perhaps a little vacant as well.

He didn't like pondering life deeply, he preferred to stay on focus, on task. He took life one ambition at a time. He tackled music the same damn way. He poured his everything into a vessel made out of air, and helped to form a half decent pop band.

His mother had told him one time, that it was good to dream, but he had to wake up one day.

He remembered being pissed off at her when she said that, in her soft, small voice.

He'd met other musicians the same way. They floated by, singing their songs and laughing, happy to dream.

Fuck them.

If they were satisfied to dream, then they didn't deserve success.

His meal arrived, and he stared at it for twenty minutes before he got around to eating it. After the first bite, he found he was starving and ate the whole thing.

He wondered for a moment, what was happening with Ma-kun and his date with fate.

He couldn't think of any job skills he possessed. He'd need a job, and soon, if he wanted to keep eating a good meal a day.

His plate was a sharp, glazed white color and his food almost seemed to mar the white as it sat there. After eating half of it, he realized it wasn't very good food. He ate the rest because he'd already paid for it. He'd leave the leftovers on the table because he knew he'd never eat it. He hated leftovers.

As he sat there he realized how stupid it was to sulk alone in a restaurant. He paid for his meal, walked back to his car, and drove home to his flat.

He parked at his spot in the garage, and stood in the cold, dimly lit space.

A moth was beating its wings against the cage surrounding the bulb. The steel was the only thing keeping it from frying itself on the heat of the incandescent bulb.

He stared up at the light, and then down at the cement floor.

He was confused at a lack of hate inside himself, and then continued to walk because standing there was morbid. He had been standing there as if something would happen, as if something would change. As if some sort of cleansing ritual he'd always been denied would suddenly surface, and he could take it all back.

If he touched the cool, black surface of the parking lot, if he stared at the light until he saw blue, if he held his breath.... maybe something would happen. Maybe something symbolic would happen. Maybe magic would happen. Maybe philosophy would happen.

But the parking lot stayed cool, and dimly lit, and the moth still beat its wings against the light, the heat of the bulb still just far away enough to keep it safe from death.

Nothing happened.

So he just kept walking, until he reached his home.

He almost felt cheated.

He sat down with his back braced against the door, his shoes still on his feet. He should shower, try and clean the collection of food wrappers and dishes off his shining coffee table. He sniffed lightly and tilted his head backwards until it bonked lightly against the door. He looked up at the ceiling, and wondered what he could do to get rid of the mild headache he was sporting. The drywall above him reminded him of animal print.

His phone started to ring, and he ignored it. It hit the silence of his flat over and over again, sharply intruding itself onto his peace. Five rings later, his answering machine picked up.

"Yo," His own voice stated, a background of static behind it, "Leave a message. Or don't. I don't really give a shit."

Whoever was on the other end hung up the phone. Eventually Tachi got up.

The world doesn't stop turning, not even when Aizawa Tachi was having a bad day.

He looked all over his place, considering all the junk he owned. He'd actually gotten rid of nearly everything he owned when NG signed ASK to their label. He wanted to start over again, be a new person. He'd picked all his furniture with that person in mind.

The whole place, in the beginning, had been edgy, sophisticated, and new. Black furniture against white walls, brand new plastic glinting unmarred as the sunlight hit it from his one window. As time went by, he found he couldn't maintain it. Garbage started to fill his room, things he was too drained to throw away: pieces of paper, fast food wrappers, empty liquor bottles, dirty laundry. He'd taken his shiny new personality and thrown his refuse all over it.

He couldn't change who he was with new furniture, he couldn't change who he was with new clothes. He couldn't change who he was no matter how he tried. He just took those nice, new things and smeared himself all over it, before it even had a chance to influence him.

He walked over to his stereo, and turned it on. The first CD started to play, and it was his own voice singing back at him. Soothed by familiarity, he went to go get ready for the rest of his life.

Tachi kicked off his shoes and heard them hit the wall by the door, he threw his pack onto the couch and then walked to his small bathroom. 

He took one long look at himself in the mirror, to see how he looked. He only looked a little like hell, his hair was ruffled because it had dried badly from his shower. His eyes looked as though he hadn't actually rested in a few days. He grit his teeth at himself, to see how scummy his mouth was, and then he pulled out his toothbrush and brushed them.

He went to his bedroom next, pulled open his closet, and then turned on the closet's light. He started to pull shirts out almost randomly, whatever texture or color appealed to him. When it failed to pass his arbitrary test, he'd toss them over his shoulder and they'd land on the bed, or it wouldn't, it didn't matter to him. After a while, he stopped at a snake print shirt, in gun metal grey. He walked over to his mirror, and held the shirt up to himself, and then got aggravated as he stared at himself for a moment.

"Jesus Christ, he's right, I do primp." And he threw the shirt behind him, onto the bed. "Not like I'm going anywhere." And he walked back to his living room, and flopped down on the couch. He arched his back against the cushions, looked up at his ceiling again, and sighed.

The phone rang again, he heard his voice again, whoever was on the other end hung up again.

"What next?" He asked the ceiling. And the room was empty, except for his voice.

He liked the beat to this particular song, it had a real drive to it, it really swooped in and kicked some ass before it ended.

He sat up, and grabbed his CD player's remote, and changed the play mode to 'random shuffle'. Then, Tachi sat back on the couch again and waited for it, as if waiting for a sentence. He didn't want to go straight to the album, he wanted it to be out of the blue. He wanted it to be sudden. He wanted to see what would happen. 

Tachi lounged on his couch, indulging in emptiness and expectation. When would the album rotate on his CD player? What song would it be? How would he react? Would he react?

He wanted emotion, he wanted a reaction, he wanted something to happen.

A new CD cycled into play, a new dance beat. It wasn't a particularly interesting song, just something Tachi tended to use as background noise when he was home.

When the album he'd been waiting for came on, and a song was picked off of it at random, Tachi didn't feel anything.

He mouthed the words aloud, "'Blind game again...' -- he doesn't enunciate enough..."

Time moves slow when you're waiting for the miracle to come.

  
  
  


There was nothing, not anymore. No phone calls, no heart stopping moments. Tachi went to nightclubs, he danced and drank. He lived off of distraction. He had enough money for exactly one more month of rent, and so he didn't look for a job. 

He spent a lot of money on things he knew he shouldn't, but he did it anyways.

One more empty night, he went to another club.

Men were dancing with men, in this club. The lights changed all of them, in uniform, different shades of day-glo. A crowd of men, dancing to a voiceless song, all of them changing blue, and then yellow, and then violet, and then pink. A disco ball shattered the colors into a million small triangles all over the floor.

He didn't fit in there.

It was an experiment, really. He danced one awkward dance with his partner, unsure of where he should put his hands. At the end of the dance, the other guy called him 'cute' and kissed him.

It didn't feel right, so Tachi frowned and pushed him away, simply opting to leave the club altogether.

Nothing seemed to effect him so much these days, so when he just swiveled around and walked away he didn't bother to say 'excuse me' or 'good bye' -- or even a 'fuck off', which would have been slightly more traditional for him.

He was burned out, reduced to simply listless.

So he was startled when a voice behind him lit something inside himself he'd forgotten about.

"Nyaaaa ha ha haaaaaa..." It was a low drawl, "Look at the faaaagot."

Tachi's teeth immediately grit, and he tilted his head to one side to crack it.

He told himself he could change, he told himself that he didn't need to react to everything everyone said. He told himself he could be trained to ignore these things.

Even while he froze just a little, even while his jaw clenched just a little, the tiny voice of reason was trying to talk himself out of turning around.

But it was a tiny voice, and Tachi was never known for being sensible.

But he couldn't resist turning around, couldn't resist staring at the man who was taunting him, the man who was taunting him as if he would never do anything about it.

"What's the matter? Forget your purse?"

He had an angular, cat's face, and was squinting at him as if to make fun of Tachi's eyes.

".... why don't you just fuck off, okay?" Tachi was trying to reign in his natural aggression.

"Oooh!" The man jeered back at him, swiveled around to his friends who were laughing behind him, "He's propositioning me!" And he swung around to face Tachi again, opened his eyes wide and said, "No, thank you, honey, I don't swing that way."

Tachi could feel his shoulders tense up to match his jaw, "If I were you, I'd shut the hell up, right now." Tachi could feel his shoes start to halfway lift off the sidewalk, started to feel himself lean forwards and just _focus_ on the man's face. He tried to remind himself that he didn't need to immediately race in with his fists clenched.

The whole street was long and dark; buildings loomed up above them as silhouettes against the twilight blue sky. Each nightclub was lit up and traced with a string of neon. People passing by did their very best to avoid them, no one wanted to be involved.

Only one Tachi, four of the bastards who kept jeering.

_Faggot   
Queer  
Homo  
Pansyass bitch_   


The men in front of him were laughing, obviously a little drunk, the four of them made braver with the mentality of the pack.

"What's a short little uke-boy like doing out alone at night, anyways?"

Tachi gave up patience and ran forwards, slammed his body into the one that was doing the most trash talk. He started flail at him with his fists. It was a release, each strike was one less fire on his insides. Flesh would yield suddenly at his fists, and then the strike would slow down abruptly as he compacted that flesh against bone.

One slapping sound, one abrupt stop. A violent rhythm that he knew.

None of the guy's friends came over to help him.

When the guy fell over, Tachi kicked him in the head, repeatedly, until he stopped moving.

"Fuck you," He said, his breath was irregular.

Blood was coming out the guy's nose.

Tachi turned around, without worrying about the guy's friends, and walked to his car.

He didn't figure he was doing too bad. He was only alone for a week and he'd only gotten into one fight. It was almost disappointing that they didn't try and follow him to his car, apparently their pack didn't account for faggots with a temper.

  
  
  


At home, he saw the light blink on his answering machine. LED red blinked over and over again, like fists in the dark.

One.

One.

One.

Tachi hit the button on the machine and kept walking towards his kitchen.

"Hey," the voice said, and he stopped walking. "Wish you'd pick up the phone sometimes."

And then the message ended.

It didn't help that he missed Ma-kun, and he had to fight the urge to dial him up immediately and apologize. He wasn't sure why he wanted to apologize, he was fairly sure he'd apologized to Ma-kun already. But it seemed that every time he opened his mouth these days, that's the first thing he said.

He walked back to the couch, exhausted already just from trying to think deep thoughts.

He sighed, and looked at his cordless phone.

Maybe changing himself wasn't as easy as buying new furniture, maybe it was as hard as deciding to call someone back.

Bite down on pride and fear and give it a whirl.

Tachi didn't have any of the lights on, but the faint street lights streaming in through his window cast tiny shadows on his individual carpet fibres.

Tachi touched the cool, scratched plastic of his cordless phone, and then dialed up Ma-kun.

"Yo," Ma-kun's voice. He obviously forgot to look at his caller ID.

"Hi." He felt a frog in his throat.

"....oh, hi... Tachi..." A pause on the other end as his voice lifted lightly in surprise, "You called me. Again."

"Yeah." And Tachi refrained from saying anything sarcastic. "Again. I guess I won't if you don't like it..."

"No, I like it. It's.... different." A moment, "Very different..."

Tachi felt weight swing around his insides. "I guess."

"Tachi..."

"How's NG?"

"It's... there." Ma-kun's voice sounded odd.

"Oh, come on." Tachi's voice became dry, "Aren't you happy to be a rock star?"

"I'm not a rock star. I'm a guitarist. And unemployed."

"Why the hell didn't you sign?" Tachi felt himself get angry at that, suddenly feeling as if he'd been suffering needlessly for the last week.

He heard a hoarse laugh at the end of the phone, "HFft, they weren't ever going to sign us for an actual record deal. It was a trick. He didn't mean it. None of it. He said, he said that Ken and I were worthless without you."

"Huh," Tachi didn't know how to feel about that.

"I guess after he said that... I realized I agreed. Or something. I tried to call you but you weren't answering. Screening your calls?"

"Just not paying attention to them..."

"Ah..."

They fell into silence, and Tachi touched a small, color poster sitting on his coffee table. "Are you going to the concert tomorrow?"

"What concert?"

"What concert do you think?"

"No," Ma-kun replied.

"I am," Tachi stated.

"..... _why?_"

"I don't know." Tachi answered, his voice trailing off as he stared off into the distance, looked down at his scraped up knuckles, touched the color poster again and rotated it. "I guess..." And he rotated the poster again, staring at the people in the picture. "I guess I want to see him."

"I don't get it. Tachi, I don't think you should go."

"No, I want to. I think I should."

"What if anyone sees you?"

"No one recognizes me anymore, anyways."

"But what about the band?"

"I don't care." He twirled the poster one more time, leaving a tiny smear of blood.

"I don't get it."

Tachi looked at his hand, and realized he had one good, solid tear right at a knuckle, and several scratches that made no sense whatsoever. It wasn't as if the man he'd hit had pins on his face. He supposed maybe he tore them up a bit on the guy's jacket zipper.

He poked at the cut with his fingers, made it reopen a little bit and bleed a little more. He dipped his fingers into the blood and carefully placed his fingertip on Shindou's face, and drew a small smile. The smile was darker on one side than the other, and when it dried it dried an unimpressive and slightly translucent brown.

"What's to get?" He asked, sometime later.

"Why do you want to go there?"

Tachi looked down at the poster. Shindou's face was glaring out at him, a dull brown smile painted over it in blood. "I just want to see him...."

"Why?"

Tachi stared down at the poster of Bad Luck. Three rectangles, each holding a band member. It wasn't a very imaginative poster.

"Just...." Tachi started, stopped again, unsure of what he wanted to say next, unsure of his own motivations. "Just...." And he scratched at the bloody smear that didn't really look like a smile, "-- to see, you know... if he's okay... or something... I don't know..."

He felt stupid, talking to Ma-kun like this. He knew Ma-kun couldn't understand, was not capable of understanding. How could he, when Tachi didn't quite get it himself? He had the sinking feeling that he was groveling just a little bit, that he was asking for attention, or forgiveness, or something which he needed and probably shouldn't get.

"...oh..." Ma-kun's voice was devoid of emotion when he said that -- either that or Tachi couldn't hear it.

But maybe... maybe, it was entirely possible, that the reason why Ma-kun couldn't understand was because Tachi never gave him any clues, never shared even a little bit. Maybe it was possible that all he had to do, was open up his mouth, _say it_, and then wait. Maybe it shouldn't just be one great dump of emotions, an avalanche of guilt and lies all mashed into one.

"I just have to see to be sure."

"Be sure of what?" Ma-kun's voice was almost gentle, but not quite, since it could easily be interpreted as noncommittal, and Tachi wasn't sure which was which at this point.

"I can't tell... you know..." And he twirled the poster on the table again. Shindou was frowning. Shindou was smiling. Frowning, smiling. Frowning, smiling. "...I can't tell... if... I'm, really like this or not."

"Like what?"

"I can't tell, iffff ... I'm a monster or a person."

"You're a person, Tachi."

Tachi shook his head 'no', as if Ma-kun could see him. "No, it doesn't matter if you think I am or not..." And Tachi winced at how that sounded, "I can't tell. I'm not sure. I don't know. I _want_ to know."

"... good to know my opinion matters to you...."

"No, you know that's not what I meant."

"Say what you mean."

"I can't believe you. I want to. I can't until I see him."

"What if you don't feel guilty? What if you just hate him all over again?"

"I guess that's just how it'll be." Tachi shrugged, and kept twirling Shindou's poster.

"...can I be there?"

Shindou was frowning. Shindou was smiling. Tachi's blood was a messy bit of clown makeup on his face.

Tachi tapped his fingertip against his tongue, and tried to wipe the blood off.

It smeared, became less, but refused to come off entirely.

"...I don't know. Do you want to be there? You don't have to. You aren't obligated to. Will Ken be there?"

"Are you afraid to be alone with me?"

"No...." Tachi leaned back into his couch, and felt his body ache. "I just miss the band. I miss us. Nevermind, don't bring Ken. Don't come over. I should probably be alone, anyways."

"Tachi, stop that." Ma-kun's voice wasn't harsh. "Stop that. Just, stop that." His voice became slightly exasperated now. "Haven't I been here for you all this time, every time? Aren't we always there for each other?"

"At the first sign of money, you left." It was almost like pain, now, almost like a real emotion. "I really wanted to depend on you. I did."

"I tried, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I guess you did." He touched Shindou's poster, tilted it sideways, and tried to figure out if it was a smile or a frown.

"I don't have tickets." Ma-kun said, "but I'll try." And they both were quiet, unsure of what to do. "Tachi?"

"Eh?"

"Can I stay on the phone with you?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. Miss you. I guess. Or something."

".... Check channel forty...."

There was a pause, and then he heard Ma-kun laugh a little, but it sounded mostly for show, "... haven't seen this in years..."

  
  
  
  


It was Shindou, on stage, and not Aizawa Tachi. It was Shindou, who caught the light and reflected it. Bad Luck's concert, not ASK's. There was a hoard of fangirls filling the audience, screaming Shindou's name, singing along with the lyrics.

He wore banana yellow, and his hair was bright pink. When he spun a circle, his long trench coat flared outwards and formed a big, fruity hoop in the air around him.

When Shindou pranced across the stage and made a show of clapping his hands, the audience obediently clapped in rhythm with his claps, giddy and drunk with Shindou's enthusiasm.

When he finished one of his songs, he flung a peace sign to all of them, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "I love you!!!" and then laughed.

Shindou probably only meant one person in the whole world, but for that evening, every girl in there felt as if they were that one person.

"Yo," a voice behind him called out, and Tachi turned and looked behind his shoulder.

Ma-kun and Ken.

He didn't say anything, for a moment, and then turned back to Shindou's concert, and his open support of peace and love.

"Wait here," Ma-kun said to Ken, "Please?"

"Uh... yeah..." Ken hovered to the back, looked around to see who was lurking in the back as well.

Ma-kun stuffed his hands into his pockets, and approached Tachi from behind.

Tachi was staring at Shindou, nearly transfixed.

"Hey..."

Tachi didn't answer.

"What's up?"

Tachi blinked for a moment, looked at Ma-kun with a sort of odd nervousness, "No one recognizes me."

"Good." And he nodded approval, as if it needed it. And then he looked at Tachi's nearly blank face, and asked what he wanted to know, "How are you?"

Tachi shrugged, and turned back to the concert, seeming to be unwilling to stop looking. "I don't know."

"Feel better?"

Tachi shrugged, not seeming to want to really communicate while Shindou was singing.

He put his hand on Tachi's shoulder, and tried to turn him so that they could look at each other eye to eye, but as soon as his hand closed around Tachi's shoulder, he jumped backwards and looked almost horrified for a moment. He relaxed when his eyes focused on Ma-kun, and then he folded his arms to his chest and looked back to the concert.

It didn't look like healthy behavior. "Are you okay?"

Tachi shook his head 'no', and kept staring at Shindou.

".... what's wrong?"

"I wanted to feel something."

"It looks like you're feeling something, to me."

Tachi shook his head 'no' again, "I wanted to feel something different."

The expression on Tachi's face didn't look like hate to Ma-kun. It looked more like remorse, like confusion, the expression of someone overwhelmed.

"Any hints?" Ma-kun asked, carefully, reached out towards him as slowly. When his fingertips brushed against Tachi's skin, Tachi shuddered away from him a little bit, his eyebrows knit a little bit, and he frowned a little bit.

He hissed a sigh, it punctuated the moment perfectly, and said, "God, it's like it never stops." And Ma-kun watched Tachi clench his fists into the fabric of his jacket.

"Good."

Tachi stopped looking at Shindou for a moment, surprised. "What?"

He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but followed through to the end, anyways. "Some things you aren't meant to get over, you aren't meant to heal from. I hope you never get over Shindou..... I think... I know, I'd think less of you if you ever did."

"You sound too fucking wise when you say that." Tachi turned back to Shindou again. "He's smiling." Tachi stated.

"Yeah. He's a pretty optimistic bastard." Ma-kun nodded. Ma-kun moved slowly this time, lifted his hand and carefully placed it on Tachi's shoulder, turned him around so that they were facing each other. He saw Tachi's eyes dart over to Ken and then dart back to Ma-kun. Tachi flicked his eyes back to Ken again, and then hesitated and smiled at him. Ma-kun lifted his hand towards Tachi's face, his palm facing upwards, his fingers curled towards himself, and touched Tachi's lower lip with his own knuckle. The skin was soft, and he drew a line with his fingers along Tachi's lip, right to left.

Tachi shied away, but didn't pull so far away that touching him was impossible.

He caught sight of Tachi's knuckles, reached down without thinking and grabbed one, he felt Tachi wince away for a moment, before settling there and letting him keep the contact. "What happened to your hand?"

"Fight." Tachi said, flicked his eyes back at the concert.

"A fight?" He frowned, wishing that Tachi would look at him, "About what?"

Tachi almost seemed to center then, become himself again, "He called me 'short'." There was a haughty catch to his voice.

"'Short.'"

"Yeah." And Tachi lost focus again, drifted back to the concert. "I hate that."

"....'short'," Ma-kun stated, dubiously, but decided not to push any further.

He reached forwards and touched Tachi's face, suddenly, wanting to see what would happen. Tachi winced backwards, turned his head to one side to avoid the touch. He dropped his eyes and looked almost bashful, almost ashamed, almost guilty. He kept his hand there, though, didn't allow Tachi's reactions to get to him. After a while, Tachi seemed to almost relax, and almost accept it. His body posture was still a half-cringe, but he didn't try and force Ma-kun to step away.

"You aren't that short." Ma-kun said, smiled lamely.

"I know that. He was just trying to piss me off." And he seemed to settle a bit.

"Tachi?"

Tachi was looking everywhere but at him. "Un?"

"Look at me, would you?"

Tachi looked at him with great hesitation, and Ma-kun offered him a smile. Tachi's face was perfectly unmarred, though the expression on his face was strange, "Looks like you won."

"Yeah." Tachi nodded. "I did. I guess."

Tachi stared at the set for a moment longer, and then turned completely around to face Ken and Ma-kun, who both offered him a weak smile.

"Hey, Tachi..." Ma-kun asked, trying to get his complete attention. 

"What?"

"You realize it's impossible, right?"

"What is?"

"Instant salvation. You can't do it. No one can."

Tachi looked down at the concert, at Shindou, who was dancing badly on stage. "Who says that's what I was looking for?"

"No one... but it's obvious."

Tachi started to draw away from him again, lean into the concert, pay attention to the words.

Tachi didn't have a retort for that. So he just gazed down at the concert, and waited for another thought to speak aloud.

"Maybe you can't get redemption. Maybe you never will. Maybe you are a monster. Maybe you deserve all this crap. I don't know." Ma-kun shrugged. "I don't know about any of that shit, Tachi. I can't be the judge of it. Frankly, I'm not qualified."

They were quiet.

"All I know is I like you. You're my friend. I don't want to lose you. Nothing is neat, nothing is tidy. It won't ever be that way, if you want it to be that way, then you just have to grow the fuck up, Tachi."

Tachi shook his head, 'no', and kept watching the concert. "You aren't living with what I am."

"You're right, I'm not." Ma-kun agreed, started to feel less annoyed when he didn't realize that he was annoyed at all. "But you did make that choice." Tachi was riveted to the concert, staring out there, transfixed. "And we're still here."

"So what next?"

"I don't know. Not happily ever after."

Tachi shrugged. "What kind of dumbass wants that?"

"You do."

Tachi shrugged, and looked down at the concert. Shindou seemed farther away than he was before, smaller with a block of fans between Tachi and himself. Tachi felt on the brink of something worthy of attention, two steps away from something just beyond his reach. And if he stretched just a little bit, if he paid just a little bit more attention, if he could just....touch it, then something miraculous would happen. But it just hovered there, on the brink, never coming completely into focus.

Tachi leaned forwards, towards the concert, and forgot that Ma-kun and Ken were even there.

Shindou's song ended and he seemed to bounce on stage. "He has a lot of fun there."

"Yeah. Good place to be." Ma-kun sounded farther away, and Tachi turned around almost entirely out of fear.

"Where you going?"

For the first time he focused on Ma-kun's face and posture, his clothes and presence. His hair was messed up and less than perfect, and his hands were shoved into his pockets. He was walking backwards, away from Tachi and his fascination with the concert. Ma-kun was leaning forwards towards him as he moved, as if he were bowing a little as he walked.

Ma-kun's expression was of faint regret. "I think we're getting something to eat. Call us sometime. Or something..." Ma-kun regretted going to the concert. "We'll see you around."

And Ma-kun pushed at Ken, who looked like he wanted to say something more, and they both started to walk away.

"Wait," Tachi felt a little desperate suddenly, "Can I come with you?"

"What?"

"...nothing..." He turned back to the concert, resenting their presence now. "I don't know why you bothered to come out, anyways."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means?" Tachi's voice was bitter now and broken, it was more of a statement now than it was before. "Just go away. Leave me alone. I can't stand you being here. Leave the monster alone."

"....Jesus fucking Christ..." Ma-kun's voice was sharp and angry behind him, "...Tachi, just.... I give up. I do. Tell me how long I have to wait. Tell me how long I have to stand here, right in front of you, before you can see me. Seriously, now. I just, I can't take it anymore. How long do I have to wait while you're looking at Shindou when you should be looking at me? What do I have to do? What great fucking deeds to I have to accomplish? Should I slay some dragon, or tear some fucking golden wool from some fucking tree before you _notice_ that I've been here all this time?"

Tachi dropped his eyes down, from the concert and down to his knuckles. He traced the scab that would make him think 'faggot' for the rest of his life.

"... I give up..." Ma-kun's voice. "I can't do this any longer. My pride, my pride can't take it any longer. It seems like the more noise I make the less effective it is. I don't know what to do to make you prefer me over your fucking penitence. But..." And then from behind him, Tachi heard a hiss of pure aggrivation, "-- god _damn_. I still want to ask you to call me, I still want to shout upwards at you from where ever the hell I'm standing. I still want your attention, even though you'd rather just stand there like a dumb bastard and wallow..."

He wasn't wallowing, when he felt hollow inside. "So what should I do?" He pinched the cut on his fist, "Stop? Stop trying... give it up and run off to screw you in some random hotel?"

Ma-kun laughed behind him, but it was a half laugh of someone who wasn't actually amused, "Sure. That'd work. Better than this crap. Better than standing here and waiting for something that probably doesn't exist."

Tachi couldn't turn around, couldn't look up. He didn't feel strong enough to make a choice.

"I guess we should go. Call us or don't. I'm really not sure I care."

A catch of fear, welled up and grasped at him suddenly, and Tachi heard himself say it, "Wait," before he knew to stop it.

Look up, he instructed himself. Look up, damn you.

And he did, his feet shuffled a little on the ground as he turned, the rubber toe of his shoe's sole scrapped a little as he didn't quite lift his foot. He wasn't facing Shindou now, and he wasn't facing Ma-kun. He was staring downwards, and then he was looking upwards, towards a wall. He looked the other way, towards the other wall, he looked up, and then he took a few steps forwards, so that he was within arms reach of Ma-kun, and he forced himself to look directly at him. "I know..." And he dropped his eyes again, forced himself to reach out and touch Ma-kun, curled his fingers around Ma-kun's coat, "I know you've been here for me.... when you didn't have to. I know you... are here now..." He couldn't quite talk straight, he couldn't quite breathe. "It's.... hard....to..." He started to feel himself lose, "I just can't do this alone. That sounds selfish. I can't, though.

Please stay.

Or take me with you."

Ma-kun stopped walking, turned and faced him, because Ma-kun always faced him. He let out a long sigh, gave him a smile, and tilted his head to one side, "Alright, fine. I'll let you come with us. But you have to do something first."

"What?"

"Let me kiss you."

Tachi shied away.

"A small one? Nothing heavy.... just, you know... affection...."

"No... I don't think so."

"How about your cheek?"

Tachi shook his head, started to step backwards.

"Okay," Ma-kun covered the distance Tachi had placed between them, reached out and smiled playfully, "here." And he touched Tachi's temple. "Just one. Just because."

Tachi dropped his gaze like a child, didn't actually want to pull away or step forwards. And Ma-kun leaned forwards and kissed his temple once, lightly, dropped his chin low enough so that he was whispering in Tachi's ear, "Seguchi won't stop. But neither will ASK, and I won't let you give up anything." He stepped away, motioned for Tachi to follow.

How does a person change?

Maybe it's as easy as doing it.

Wait for the miracle, walk to the miracle.

He had always assumed, that he'd save himself. That he had to, because he was alone. He had always figured he'd get out of this, that he'd take the one final step and that would be the end. He'd always assumed that he'd travel down the path, find the end, and he'd stop walking. But that isn't how it works. It seemed like every time he took a step it was his first step, and every time he looked towards his goal it was never any closer.

And Tachi took another step.

And Tachi took another.

  
  


_"-- walking lost in the sparkling streets, glaring one way  
maybe numb from this cold, I am illuminated --"_

  
  


Each day just melts, one clumsy ache following another.

One step following another.

  


And where does it end? Because Tachi is never satisfied, not by the moment... not by sex or music... and maybe, all he'd get was this: with ASK, with Ma-kun and Ken, he was a little less restless. He was a little less forlorn, and a little less alone. Maybe a little less evil. The devil and friendship.

  


A motion, a movement, a presence which resembled satisfaction.

  


"Tachi?"

  


Tachi focused on them, hesitated again...

  


"-- come on Tachi, let's go."

  


The devil and friendship.

  
  
  
  


It's only a road, all you do is walk it. It's only a road, but, there is no end.

  
  
  

    
    
    WAITING FOR THE MIRACLE
    (from the album 'THE FUTURE')
    Baby, I've been waiting,
    I've been waiting night and day.
    I didn't see the time,
    I waited half my life away.
    There were lots of invitations
    and I know you sent me some,
    but I was waiting
    for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
    I know you really loved me.
    but, you see, my hands were tied.
    I know it must have hurt you,
    it must have hurt your pride
    to have to stand beneath my window
    with your bugle and your drum,
    and me I'm up there waiting
    for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
    Ah I don't believe you'd like it,
    You wouldn't like it here.
    There ain't no entertainment
    and the judgements are severe.
    The Maestro says it's Mozart
    but it sounds like bubble gum
    when you're waiting
    for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
    Waiting for the miracle
    There's nothing left to do.
    I haven't been this happy
    since the end of World War II.
    Nothing left to do
    when you know that you've been taken.
    Nothing left to do
    when you're begging for a crumb
    Nothing left to do
    when you've got to go on waiting
    waiting for the miracle to come.
    I dreamed about you, baby.
    It was just the other night.
    Most of you was naked
    Ah but some of you was light.
    The sands of time were falling
    from your fingers and your thumb,
    and you were waiting
    for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
    Ah baby, let's get married,
    we've been alone too long.
    Let's be alone together.
    Let's see if we're that strong.
    Yeah let's do something crazy,
    something absolutely wrong
    while we're waiting
    for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
    Nothing left to do ...
    When you've fallen on the highway
    and you're lying in the rain,
    and they ask you how you're doing
    of course you'll say you can't complain --
    If you're squeezed for information,
    that's when you've got to play it dumb:
    You just say you're out there waiting
    for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
    Written by Leonard Cohen and Sharon Robinson, Stranger Music Inc.
    (BMI) and Robinhill Music (ASCAP).
    

* * *

_contrary-perfection.net // the collected fanfictions of eidolon tree_


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